I'll Wait For You
by Noelani618
Summary: Dean and Sam are on a new case trying to stop a string of murders. The case drudges up painful memories for Dean of a young woman he loved and believes dead. Or is she? DeanOC. Ch.1 revised!
1. Chapter 1

**I'll Wait For You**

First I'd like to give special thanks to **bayre** for allowing me to borrow her AU universe and for betaing this chapter. There will be references to characters from her stories _Coming Storm_ and _Gale Warnings_ that will be explained a bit later but I highly recommend that you read them for yourselves because they are just awesome! You're great Laura and again thank you!

I do not own Supernatural; I'm just playing.

Summary: Dean and Sam are on a new case trying to stop a string of murders somehow related to Indian Legends. The case drudges up painful memories for Dean of a young woman he loved and believes dead. Or is she? DeanOC

* * *

Chapter 1: Back to the Past

A stiff breeze brushed through Sam's hair, carrying the fresh scent of damp earth. He glanced back at the small grocery store where his brother was buying fresh supplies. A familiar worn leather jacket caught his eye and Sam shook his head amused. Dean was flirting with the checkout girl and she was falling for it, hook, line and sinker. Turning his attention back to his laptop, Sam typed a few words in, impatiently waiting for the results. Bingo. Sam scrolled through the information. With every sentence he read, his shoulders sagged lower in disappointment. This wasn't helping.

"Hey, did you find anything?"

Sam lifted his chin to see Dean at the window, shaking his head. "No. The autopsy reports have nothing new. Cause of death appears to be blunt force trauma and the…rest was post mortem. However, I did get the police report, including the initial interview with the guy who found the bodies. In his statement he seems to be alluding to some old legend or something. There's not enough to determine which one." Sam paused, biting his lip. He was in his element, researching and finding obscure information, but for some reason this case continued to lead to dead ends.

Dean came around, dropping off the groceries in the back seat before settling behind the wheel, his eyes still on his brother, waiting patiently. Sam huffed. "There is nothing in any of the victims' backgrounds connecting them, they lived hundreds of miles apart and its unlikely they ever even met. I checked all possible associates and there's nothing."

His brother furrowed his brow. "What about the witness? What do you have on him?"

Rifling through the file he had been putting together, Sam gave a small "ah ha" when he found the paper. "Richard Sterne, age 62, senior security guard on staff at Dover City Mall, found the bodies of the victims shortly after 4 a.m. on Wednesday March 19. When interviewed he commented to the police, 'I ain't seen a sight such as this ever before, only in the legends of old and even then not like this; never this. The serpent strikes swiftly and deadly indeed.'" Sam paused. When Dean nodded, he continued. "So I ran an ethnic background check. It seems Mr. Sterne has Native American roots."

"Crap, we better not be dealing with another Native American curse," Dean grumbled. Sam offered a small smirk in agreement. Yeah, that curse involving death by bugs wasn't fun. "Anyway, Sterne was actually born in Tulsa, Oklahoma on a reservation. I haven't been able to get into the Native American database, but I'm pretty sure Sterne is either Creek, Choctaw, or Cherokee."

Dean straightened slightly, his mouth tugging down in a frown. "Did Sterne say anymore? Anything at all?"

Startled, Sam glanced back down at the page. "Um, yeah. According to the lead detective, Mr. Sterne initially said something and when asked what he meant Sterne merely repeated it. Sigienah? Looks like the guy trying to spell it just threw a bunch of letters together." Sam grumbled as he tried to make sense of the strange jumble.

"Sam," his brother said in a low voice. "You have to find out which tribe Sterne's from."

Surprised by the intensity of Dean's request (more like an order) Sam's fingers flew across the keys. The Impala growled to life beneath him, comforting and familiar, as the wheels began rolling down the road. Unfortunately the comfort of the Impala was clashing with the tension radiated from Dean's very core. What was wrong? Sam wanted to ask but one quick peek through his bangs revealed Dean's jaw was clenched tight; definitely not the time to ask questions.

When the Impala pulled in the motel parking lot, Sam still had no luck getting in. Geez, how the hell did Native American tribes have tougher security then the Feds?

"Take a break dude," Dean suggested. "I need some help carrying the food anyway."

Dean didn't really need help but Sam was grateful for the excuse to close his laptop. Once the groceries were sorted through and properly stowed away, Sam cracked open his laptop again. Dean took the file and settled on the bed, spreading the information in front of him. As Sam again failed to get in the files a light bulb went on. Sam wanted to slap himself. Duh! Check the victims' ethnicity and that would probably tell him which tribal legend to look for. Furiously tapping away at the keys, Sam soon had the answer on the screen.

"Dean."

Green eyes flicked up from the files.

"I found it."

"Which tribe?" Dean asked, standing up and moving behind Sam to see the screen.

"Cherokee," Sam replied, bobbing his head toward the screen. Watching his brother's face as he read the information, Sam tried to gauge Dean's reaction. Oh, Dean reacted all right. His face closed off and his eyes grew shadowed and sad. Dean's drew his finger across the pad, directing the cursor as he clicked a few buttons and another screen popping up. Leaning forward, Sam read a few lines before he halted. Was this…Cherokee?

"There." Dean pointed at something on the screen. Annoyed, Sam pushed the hand aside. His eyes grew wide as he read. _Sgina_ was the Cherokee word for 'bad spirit'. And it looked similar to what the detective scribbled down during the interview with Sterne.

"So all the victims were of Cherokee descent." Dean's voice was flat. The older man stepped back and began to pace. "There are two Cherokee tribes in the states, the western band in Oklahoma and the eastern band which contains some of the Cherokee's original land in North Carolina. My bet is we need to head to the eastern reservation."

Dean and Sam grimaced simultaneously. They're last excursion to the east coast was to South Carolina during a hurricane. Sam immediately disliked the idea of going back. They only left a few months ago! He opened his mouth to protest but Dean spoke first.

"The reservation is on the western side of the state, nowhere near the coast. Probably head for Cherokee."

Sam scrunched his face. Dean chuckled, cracking the stone visage his face resembled since he read the laptop. "Cherokee as in the city."

"Oh." Sam shrugged sheepishly. Worry spiked through him, as Dean's expression grew distant. Somehow Sam didn't think what happened a few short months ago was upsetting his big brother. Sam bit his tongue. Dean would only shut down on him if he demanded an explanation.

"So, North Carolina?"

"North Carolina."

* * *

"Dean, why did you want to check Sterne's background?"

Dean didn't immediately respond, keeping his eyes strictly on the highway. No doubt his older brother was choosing his words carefully. "I've heard word _sgina_ before and," Dean trailed off, shrugging. "I just wanted to be sure. It gave us the connection between the victims at least."

Oh no, not good enough big brother. Not even. "How would you know? It's not like we've ever met any Cherokee Indians."

Sam stared. That was not guilt he saw on his brother's face! It couldn't be. "You…you have?!"

"Yeah," Dean replied softly. "Several years ago now. They were good people."

_Were? People? As in more than one?_ Sam tried to wrap his mind around the bombshell.

"What happened?"

No answer.

"Dean? Dean!"

"It was a long time ago Sam," Dean said at last, his voice thick. "Leave it alone."

"No," Sam said, shaking his head, turning to face his brother. "What happened?"

When no response was forthcoming Sam tried, "I thought we agreed to keep no more secrets from each other."

He added his best puppy eyes for good measure. Come on Dean! It was a low blow on Sam's part but he didn't particularly care. Finding out what happened in the past mattered much more.

"Sammy," Dean murmured, tilting his chin downward, his eyes still on the road. "I promise to tell you, man. Just not right now."

Dean glanced at Sam for a fleeting moment before returning to the road. Sam's heart squeezed. Pain simmered in Dean's eyes despite his efforts to conceal it. Swallowing hard, Sam looked away. He wouldn't push anymore. Dean promised to tell him and Sam knew his brother would tell him. Big brother never makes a promise he doesn't plan to keep. Dean released a heavy sigh.

"Sam, I—its not that I don't want to tell you. But I haven't—I couldn't think about it. Until today I haven't thought about it since…well, it's been a long time."

There was hesitation in his words, a deeply ingrained regret sending Sam's mind reeling in shock. He knew that tone; it was Dean's _I-love-you-but-I-failed_ voice he had heard many times over the years, like when Dean told him about the Shrtiga. Could Dean really have had a deep relationship with someone else? Frankly, he didn't see how it was possible. Dean loved his family; was devoted to them, to Sam, to such a degree that he would die for them. Why would he form a bond like that with strangers? Biting his lip to keep his scream inside, Sam forced his eyes to face forward as the unfamiliar feeling of jealousy coursed through his veins.

Dean patted his knee gently, letting his hand linger for just a moment before putting it back on the wheel. Sam's fears quieted. Dean understood this was difficult to accept. He always seemed to know how Sam felt, what he was thinking, what was happening to him…it was actually kind of creepy. But Sam would not have it any other way.

Fours hours, seven cassettes, and one gas station later, the brothers decided to take a break. Sitting at the weathered picnic tables of a rest stop, Sam picked at his sandwich. Ever since Dean mentioned the Cherokee people he knew, alluding to a relationship with them that was different from those usually formed between the hunter and victims, Sam couldn't stop trying to understand how it happened.

Lifting his eyes to his brother at Dean's tired sigh, Sam raised his eyebrows. _What?_ Dean scrubbed his face, dropping his hand down on the table loosely. Sam leaned closer, letting his arm rub Dean's. His brother shot him a grateful look before he dropped his chin once more.

"About a year after you started at Stanford, I was on a hunt in North Carolina," Dean said, absently swirling his soda. "It wasn't anything big, just a routine poltergeist. Anyway, I met this Cherokee girl in the library."

He paused in his narration at Sam's snort. "Hey, she approached me Sammy."

Sam grinned, chuckling at his brother's indignation. "Right."

Rolling his eyes Dean mumbled, "Whatever."

His brother's annoyance only served to make Sam's grin wider.

"She knew the location of the poltergeist and the owners," Dean continued. "She vouched for me and the rest was easy."

Sam cocked his head. "She helped you?"

"Yeah." The breathless quality of Dean's voice made Sam suck in his breath in sudden dread.

"What happened to her?"

A shadow fell over Dean's face. Sam's stomach knotted in foreboding. He tactfully asked, "What was she like?"

"Definitely not your average girl," Dean replied with a slight smirk, the shadows lifting a bit. "She had a slight disability."

Sam wasn't prepared for that. He was expecting a beautiful woman like Cassie Robinson who was perfectly capable of holding her head high, walking tall on her own, and making herself known to all. Keeping quiet, Sam let Dean continue. It was obvious, at least to Sam; Dean was reliving the times spent in this mystery woman's company.

"She required a small leg brace due to complications at birth." Snorting, Dean shook his head, admiration appearing in his eyes. "But that didn't stop her from wanting to learn how to ride a horse."

"But her leg," Sam protested. "How could she ride with a bad leg?"

Dean smirked. "You'd be surprised Sammy."

"I've never seen anything like it," Dean murmured, a gleam in his eyes. "That woman was stubborn. She learned how to ride without a special saddle or a platform to mount, to just ride with only her and the horse."

Sam's brows knit together as Dean slid his wallet out of his pocket. He withdrew two worn photos from a small sleeve cut in the leather. Leaning forward Sam stared at the girl, young woman really, astride a golden horse, bareback, a triumphant smile on her face. The next picture drove a dagger through Sam's heart. Gazing up at Sam with a his eyes wrinkled in a genuine smile on his rugged face, Dean and the woman were leaning up against a large tree; her petite form snuggled against his as he held her close. Barely visible on her left leg was the brace Dean mentioned. Licking his lips, Sam turned the picture over not really expecting to find anything. To his surprise, Dean actually had written something on the back. _Naomi and Dean, April 16, 2003_.

"Naomi?" The longing on Dean's face didn't slip past him as Sam said her name.

"You loved her."

Dean looked away, a humorless smirk on his face. "You said the same thing when you learned about Cassie."

Clenching his fist, Sam leaned closer to Dean. "What about Cassie? Why did you go to her? I know you cared about Cassie…"

"Cassie was just a dream," Dean cut in sharply, rescuing the photograph from Sam's fist. "I loved the idea of Cassie, not her. She had every right to dump me. Naomi, Naomi was different." His voice dropped. Dean's eyes darkened with bitterness and regret.

"She knew about the supernatural, knew what I did since she helped me on the hunt. When I told Naomi the whole truth she…she didn't see me any different. Not like Cassie."

Sam understood why Naomi's acceptance meant so much to Dean. Rarely, if ever, did people acknowledge the things that go bump in the night might be real. They usually thought Dean and Sam were just crazy. Exceptions were very rare. For Naomi to openly accept Dean, and his job, earned her high points in Sam's book.

"Her aunt was a different story. The old crone eavesdropped on us and when she found out what I did for a living, well, she got aggressive."

"Aggressive?" Sam repeated, immediately suspicious. "How aggressive?"

Dean shrugged, nonchalant. "Enough to piss me off."

Sam narrowed his eyes, eyebrows slanting together. "Dean, what did she do?"

Dean grimaced, seeming to regret mentioning the incident at all, but Sam had no intention of letting it slide. "Well?" Sam demanded, scowling.

A frown answered him. "Don't worry about it Sammy. Eli intervened and we managed to keep it civil."

"Who's Eli?" Sam asked, brow furrowing in sudden curiosity. He recognized his brother's diversion tactic and reluctantly let it go. It had absolutely nothing to due with Sam's innate curiosity that roused at the new name, nope, nothing at all.

"Eli Redfeather was Naomi's great uncle," Dean explained. "He was the one who taught Naomi how to ride. Well," he went on, "I hung around for a while before Dad called me up to help him on a hunt in Southern Arizona."

Dean licked his lips, a small huff emerging. "We had become close so…we decided mailing letters to a PO box in Palo Alto could work as a temporary solution."

"Palo Alto?"

"Yeah. I was there rather frequently so I figured it would be the best place. We wrote letters back and forth for a little over a year before we agreed to meet again, fall of '04 I think," Dean said, eyes focused on the woman in the picture. "We met at my apartment."

Sam recalled Dean telling him about the apartment he rented just south of Stanford. Dean had trusted this woman. How did she gain Dean's confidence? From experience and observation Sam knew Dean did not offer up trust easily, which served to only make Sam more curious.

"She stayed for nearly six months, well her and Eli. The old man refused to be left behind." Dean shook his head. "Man, that guy could just drive me crazy. He didn't talk much. Always staring at me whenever I so much as glanced at her."

At that Sam smirked, imagining a gray-haired Indian man half his brother's height staring at Dean like a Christmas goose, maybe a tomahawk in hand. He covered a laugh with a cough. Dean raised a questioning eyebrow before continuing.

"Naomi got a part time job at a library and was getting a degree in business management or something. Kept her aunt off her tail at least. The week before Easter Naomi and Eli decided to head home and spend it with their family. Since I hadn't been on a hunt in about a month I decided to look into something up in Wyoming and left the day before them. I was almost through Utah when I got a call from Naomi. A madman was holding them both at gunpoint."

Sam's mouth grew unnaturally dry when Dean said the word _madman_ and _gunpoint _in the same sentence.

"I turned around right there and headed back. She managed to send me rough coordinates of their location before the connection was cut. He caught her using it." Dean's lip curled in a silent snarl, sending Sam's stomach plummeting in dread.

"By the time I found them, Eli was dead and Naomi," Dean's jaw grit frigidly together. "That son of a bitch raped her."

Sam exhaled sharply in horror. Dean took a long drink from his previously ignored coke.

"When Naomi woke up in the hospital she couldn't remember anything. Not even me. Her aunt came to claim her and accused me of being involved. I stuck around long enough to prove I was innocent. The police caught the bastard before I was released otherwise they would probably have never found him."

A shiver ran down Sam's spine. He didn't doubt for a second that Dean meant it. Shrugging, Dean tossed his empty can into the trash as he stood up, stretching. "That was the end of it."

Trailing after his brother, Sam struggled to process everything he just learned. He hurried to keep pace with Dean since his brother was striding forward rather quickly. There was one more question Sam needed an answer to.

"Why didn't you go back for her?"

"She died."

"What?!" Sam exclaimed. "But you said she just had amnesia."

Dean didn't answer as he climbed into the driver's side of the Impala. Sam scampered around the passenger side to sit down next to his brother. Dean stared at the wheel, loathing barely concealed in his eyes.

"Dad helped me look and he found her death certificate. She died of internal bleeding."

Sam didn't know what to say. They sat in silence. His tongue felt thick in his mouth as Sam whispered, "You really loved her, didn't you?"

The Impala roared to life.

please review!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Truth Revealed

_One year previous..._

Tapping her fingers lightly against the wheel to the beat of Billy Ray Cyrus' song, _Words By Heart_, Naomi stole a glance towards the west. The sun was slowly descending into the west, creating a palette of reds, oranges, and yellows for as far as the eye could see. Smiling sadly, her attention riveted back to the gravel dirt road. Just ahead she could see the old cottage where her great aunt Deborah and cousin George lived. She had only been reintroduced to them about six weeks ago but she loved them dearly.

Putting the old Ford pickup into park, she cut the ignition. Releasing a tired sigh, she opened the door, carefully lowering her legs down. A lanky man, in his mid-thirties to early forties, with shoulder length black hair and red skin came to the door calling a greeting in his native tongue.

Returning his call, Naomi began the slow gait to the porch. The man pushed the screen door out, opening his arms to her. She entered his embrace happily, kissing his cheek lightly.

"(_Evening George)_," Naomi said easily, the Cherokee words rolling easily across her tongue. "(_How is Aunt Debbie?)_"

"(_She's doing better little cousin_)," George rumbled, patting his hand on her shoulder. "(_She is anxious to speak with you_.)"

"Why?" Naomi asked, switching to English. "I love visiting the both of you but isn't this rather sudden?"

She peered up at her cousin curiously as they stepped inside the cool house. George didn't look at her. "It is not for me to say."

"But—"

"Hush," George said sharply. "Mother shall speak to you and you will listen. My words are of little consequence. Come, she is in her room."

Following him, sulking just slightly, Naomi tried again to unravel the mystery behind her great aunt's sudden phone call. The previous night Naomi had been trapped in a terrible dream, a memory really that plagued her for nearly two years. However, the dream had one key difference. Instead of never ending darkness and pain, a light appeared in the form of a person, a man whose face she couldn't discern. Her feelings at his approach were drastically different from those she always felt. Warmth, protection, and love enveloped her and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would be all right. An angel had come for her. The last remnants of the dream were fading when the phone rang. It was four o'clock in the morning! Turned out it was her great aunt Deborah demanding Naomi drive out to see her immediately. She hung up before Naomi could ask her why. Now here she was, walking down the hall to receive, hopefully, some answers.

The first glimpse of her bed-ridden aunt caused Naomi's heart to skip a beat. A frail, small woman lay beneath a mountain of blankets, her thin, wispy gray hair stretching across the expanse of the yellowed pillow. Hollow cheekbones, sunken brown eyes, and sallow sagging skin were all that remained of her aunt's once proud visage. Viciously reining her emotions, Naomi sat down beside the bed, her head bowed respectfully.

"It has been too long child."

Naomi winced at the weak, nasally, creaking of her aunt's voice. The turgid stench of antibiotics filled her nostrils as a bony hand lifted in greeting, sending her mind reeling as the memories assaulted her.

_Flash_.

Someone looming over her, face hidden behind a mask as he or she lifted a needle above her body…

_Flash._

Monitors squealing in her ears, people shouting and yelling as pain shot through her entire skeleton…

_Flash_.

A man wearing thick-rimmed glasses on an oversized nose as he said, "She was raped."

_She was raped… raped…_

_Young man found her…_

_Man found her…_

"Naomi?"

Abruptly whipping her head up with a gasp, Naomi stared at George in fear. He came around to her side, grasping her shoulders firmly.

"Naomi, what's wrong?"

Taking several deep breaths to calm her jangling nerves, Naomi replied, "Nothing. Nothing, just some…unpleasant memories."

George gave her a searching look before releasing her and retreating to his position at the end of the bed.

"Memories?"

Twisting her head back to her ailing aunt, Naomi waited. "Memories. Yes, we all have many memories of those we love."

Scrunching her eyebrows together in confusion, Naomi prompted. "Ya mean you and Uncle Eli?"

Debbie shook her head, coughing roughly. "I 'ave many happy memories of me and Elijah but no, I mean you child. Your memories of your beloved."

Naomi snorted in disbelief. "Aunt Debbie, I've never been in love."

"Lies! Lies!" Debbie exclaimed. "That witch removed them from ya. She wouldn't tolerate ya rememberin' him."

"Witch? Who wouldn't tolerate me remembering? What's going on Aunt Debbie? What do you mean?" Naomi demanded, hysteria rapidly starting to set in. What didn't she remember?

"A'ter you was rescued child, you lost all ya memory. Your papa's sister claim ya 'fore me an' George had a chance. Fill your head full of rubbish that witch did when she ran off with ya."

Naomi gaped at her aunt, unable to wrap her mind around what she'd just been told. "W-what?" She stuttered, her face paling.

"Naomi, beautiful Naomi, you were in love with a young man, a warrior of a different breed. He trusted ya, loved ya, protected ya; treated ya good. But that witch despises him."

Sucking in her breath, Naomi choked back her sudden urge to cry. Grasping her aunt's trembling hand firmly she pleaded, "Why? What happened to him? If he loved me why did he leave?"

Debbie turned burning eyes toward her. "He left to protect ye."

Despair filled her. "He—he didn't come back even after I was..."

"He called me, looking for you a'ter ya disappeared but I didn't know where's you was then child. He didn't leave any number ta contact him by. 'Fore that when he first left my Eli say he kept in touch. Say that you and he were secretly visiting your man 'fore Eli left with ya for California."

Lifting her head, Naomi almost dared not hope it to be true. "He did?"

She started when George suddenly set a small, polished oak box in front of her. Raising an eyebrow at him, she let her fingers brush lightly across the smooth surface. For a moment she was back in her room, the same polished box in her hands. She was opening it…

"What is this?" She asked, her voice catching. Her cornflower blue eyes met George's.

"Open it."

Slowly, reverently even, Naomi glided the lid up and gasped. Inside was a pile of letters, all with different stamps but each had her name was written on each envelope. The papers was worn, some smudged as if they were read often.

"I found it among my father's belongings," George said quietly. "He also had this."

Naomi took the manila folder, unable to find her voice.

"Pa knew he wasn't going to come home. He left these for you."

"Find your man, Naomi. He still loves ya. Eli wouldn't have let ya live with him for six months otherwise," Debbie murmured, her eyes closing. George ushered Naomi out of the room. Moving automatically Naomi walked to the door, the wooden box and folder clutched tightly in white knuckled hands. Before she could stumble out of the house, George gave her some advice.

"Don't go home Naomi. Find him and take your life back."

She couldn't answer only nod weakly. Hurrying down the steps, she didn't even register the pain from her leg as she brutally thumped the brace against rail as she passed. Nor did the tears of betrayal raining down her cheeks make any impression on her stunned mind as she drove away.

* * *

Horses nickering quietly, the steady trickle of the stream and rustle of the tree leaves were the only sounds in the meadow. A dark form sat slumped on the sandy beach of the stream, her knees drawn up to her chest. She trembled, silently sobbing over the loss she didn't know about until today.

Letting her chin rest on her knees, Naomi brushed away the wet drops from her face. She drove straight to the horse pastures after leaving George and Aunt Deborah. It was the only safe place she could think of where her Aunt Sandra wouldn't come. Sandra knew of her passion for horses and that if she wasn't at work she was down at the fields. For her part, Sandra avoided horses and the outdoors like a plague, never coming near them unless absolutely necessary. She despised anything and everything from nature. But Naomi loved it; thrived most when walking through the fields and riding her horses. Sometimes it was difficult to even believe they were related. Dropping her head back down, Naomi stared up at the starry sky, troubled.

A wet muzzle nibbled on her hair. "Hey girl." Naomi ran a hand tenderly across the soft muzzle of the golden mare. Snorting, the horse nudged her arm hopefully. Naomi pulled a small sugar cone from her pocket, chuckling.

"You're so spoiled Sunny," she murmured as the mare eagerly took the treat from her hand. Brushing Sunny's head, Naomi again looked up at the stars.

"What do ya think I should do girl? I mean if this guy loved me why didn't he fight to come back? Why did he leave me with Aunt Sandra?" Sighing, Naomi carefully pushed to her feet, brushing her backside clean. Uncertainly she carefully removed the wooden box from her jacket pocket. Fingering the smooth, polished edges she wondered what secrets this little box held, what it bared witness too while in her possession.

With shaking fingers she picked up the first letter. Wait a minute. Blinking in surprise, Naomi lifted the envelope higher, letting the moonlight illuminate the writing. Her insides twisted into knots. Naomi Blackstone. It said Naomi Blackstone. But her name was Elizabeth Naomi Brooks, wasn't it?

Her legs gave out beneath her. Only the pain from the impact snapped her from shock. Grimacing, she adjusted the metal bar and straps. Satisfied, Naomi returned her attention to the letter she didn't realize she clenched in her hand. Loosening her grip, she again stared at the name. For some reason she knew it was right; it felt right whereas Elizabeth Brooks never did.

"She lied to me." Naomi nearly choked in sudden fury and despair. "She lied, just like Aunt Debbie said."

A fierce fire burning in her lungs, Naomi lifted her chin defiantly. Her cousin words echoed in her head. _Take back your life_. Oh, she was going to take back her life all right. But where to start?

Once again pushing to her feet, absently rubbing Sunny's mane she smiled grimly. What better place than where she lost her memory? Stuffing the letter back inside, she slipped the box into her pocket and pulled herself onto the mare's back.

"Well Sundancer, looks like we're going on a little road trip."

A few hours later Naomi quietly crept down the hallways of the house, bag over her shoulder. She knew that this might prove to be the most foolish thing she had ever done but she didn't honestly care. Her life as she knew it was a lie, a fake and she determined that George got it right. It was time to take her life back and the first step was to leave the person responsible for controlling her behind. Overnight her resentment toward her aunt boiled into full-blown rage. After returning from the fields with Sundancer in tow, Aunt Sandra had intercepted her, dragging her along for a last minute date with a strange man. Henry, she thinks his name was, was a perfect gentleman but a complete bore. Her aunt's constant meddlesome antics throughout the night did not help her mood any. She finally had enough when Aunt Sandra mentioned a winter wedding. Naomi knew she probably gave away too much when she exploded and stormed out but it was over and done with.

Furtively glancing over her shoulder, Naomi carefully tugged the kitchen door open and stepped out onto the porch. Adjusting the strap of her duffel she maneuvered down the steps silently and across the yard to the barn. Sundancer nickered a greeting from her stall. Taking a deep breath to steady her pounding heart, Naomi slipped her bag into the passenger side of the cab before turning to the small horse trailer. Checking the hitch over carefully she grunted in satisfaction. Good.

"Okay girl, ready to go?"

Sundancer snorted, counting lightly. Naomi slipped the halter onto the golden mare's head and guided her to the trailer. Once Sundancer was settled she hurriedly gathered up the necessary horse supplies and stowed them away. Fear planted firmly in her gut as she cautiously pushed open the barn doors. She had a bad feeling. The only good thing was the barn pointed directly toward the road, not the house. Climbing into the cab, turning the engine on, Naomi exhaled loudly.

Leaving her headlights off, Naomi drove out of the barn and down the dirt road at snail's pace. No need to give off any extra noise by racing out of here. She began to breath easier as she pulled out onto the highway and took the truck up to speed.

There was no going back, no time for second-guessing of doubts. She was committed to discovering the truth. First stop, California and St. Mary's Hospital.

* * *

_Present day_

Exhausted and disheartened she turned the truck back towards North Carolina. She had tracked the man from her dreams across the country, from town to town, but never any closer to finding him. She didn't want to give up; she knew he was still out there. But Naomi was much too tired to continue searching steadily any longer.

Perhaps a couple weeks with her cousin would rejuvenate her strength.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Legend of the Cherokee

Dean swallowed a sigh as he drove the Impala down the small main street of the town. Nearly six years passed since he last traveled these streets. God, had it really been that long? Shaking away the shadows chasing his mind, Dean flipped the blinker on, pulling into the small lot in front of a rickety wooden store. A large sign written in faded white letters read _Holly Silverwood's Baked Goods and Gifts._

He shrugged when Sam raised an eyebrow, his eyes clearing saying, _why are we here_? Shutting the car door, a chill of unease washed down his spine. So much time passed since he last stood in this doorway. Would she actually welcome him? Sam noticed his hesitation immediately.

"You okay?"

Briskly shaking his head, Dean walked forward. "I'm fine."

Taking the steps two at a time Dean rolled his eyes at Sam disbelieving snort. He really didn't want to discuss his feelings at the moment, if ever. Pushing the door open, a small bell jingled above his head. The fresh scent of cedar mixed with the tantalizing aroma of breads and desserts hit his nostrils bringing ghosts of the past to the forefront of his mind.

_Strands of black hair fell into her face as she stumbled through the door, her mouth open in hysterical laughter as he came in behind her, smiling and laughing too. She slipped her small hand into his…_

"Osiyo!" A chirpy voice called from the kitchen. Dean paused near the counter, Sam lingering close enough so his arm brushed against Dean's. A homely Indian woman stepped through the door, wiping her hands on a towel. Her handsome face tarnished only by a few laugh wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, her gray streaked hair pulled back in a long braid, Holly Silverwood appeared very much like any sweet grandmother willing to spoil her grandchild at every turn. Dean silently took relief in how little she changed.

Holly's dark eyes grew wide, her lips forming a small o. He offered a sheepish smile. "Hey Holly."

"Well Ah'll be, Dean Winchester!" The woman puttered around the counter, wrapping her arms around a surprised Dean. Dean glared at Sam over his shoulder as his brother struggled to cover a laugh with a cough, silently promising retribution later. Sam smiled innocently. Turning his attention back to the woman hugging him, Dean gave a warm squeeze before stepping back.

She obliged him, somewhat, letting her hands linger on his arms. A smile ran from ear to ear on her face.

"Ah always knew ya would come back to darken my door. 'He'll be back' I've always said. But no one believe me. An' here ya are!" Holly noticed Sam behind him.

"Who is dis young'un?"

"Holly this is my brother Sam. Sam this is Holly Silverwood." Shyly Sam dipped his head in recognition. Dean leaned his weight to one side, letting his stance move him partially in front of his brother. He understood Sam's discomfort. Holly paid no mind to Sam's unease; she let go of Dean and embraced Sam too.

Dean struggled to keep a straight face at Sam's deer in the headlights expression. Taking pity on his little brother, Dean called Holly's attention back.

"Holly, my brother and I are here on business."

He emphasized the last word; glad she immediately sobered in understanding. "Aye. Well come on back boys and maybe I can help."

Bustling over to the front door she turned the sign from _Open_ to _Closed_. Waving her hand in a _follow me_ motion, Holly led the brothers behind the counter towards the kitchen. As they followed the stout woman into the kitchen and beyond to her living quarters, Dean explained quietly to Sam, "Holly's father and grandfather were hunters. She grew up knowing about the supernatural."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" Sam asked nose wrinkled in annoyance. Dean tightened his jaw. "I forgot about it."

Sam's eyes widened in understanding, ducking his head in a manner Dean knew to be one of guilt. "Its okay Sammy. I should have remembered."

Before Sam could open his mouth to answer, Holly spoke up, having reached the living room. "Please sit children."

Obediently the Winchesters sat down on the couch across from her. Holly clasped her hands in her lap graciously, as if in prayer. "Tell me."

Dean glanced at Sam, raising his eyebrow in question. He wouldn't force Sam to talk if he didn't want to. Sam quirked his mouth slightly, telling Dean that he was willing. Both looked back to Holly.

"For the last six months there has been a string of murders," Sam began. "They've been in major cities scattered across the country like Chicago, Los Angeles, Phoenix, and Philadelphia. So far there have been a total of twelve people killed, two people each month. The MO is a man and woman found with the back of their skulls crushed and certain organs missing. The missing...organs are different with each pair."

Dean's stomach twisted recalling the gruesome crime scene photos. From the disgusted twist of his mouth, Sam was thinking about them too. Leaning back, Dean's leg bumped lightly against his brother's. Sam continued slowly.

"The victims are also marked with strange symbols. Each man is found with a, uh, a serpent sliced into their cheeks and each women has a diamond carved into the bone above the heart. We have no idea what they mean. But there's another symbol burnt into the ground between the victims. Its—" Sam floundered.

"Weird," Dean stated pulling a folded copy of the crime scene photo from his jacket pocket, smoothing the folds for the elderly woman to see clearly. The snapshot showed two parallel lines with one extending out like an ax burnt into the ground. Dean didn't really expect Holly to react but she shocked him by crying out in Cherokee, several curses pouring from her lips. Muttering in an agitated tone, Holly waved the picture away. Replacing the photo in his pocket, Dean glanced at her. "What is it?"

"Death." Holly said weakly, frightened like so many Dean and Sam encountered during the hunts. She visibly swallowed, rubbing her hands together, her eyes shutting as she took several deep breaths. When her eyes opened, Holly was once more calm and serene.

"It is the Cherokee symbol for death. There is more isn't there?"

"Yes," Sam answered, grimacing. "We researched the victims and have found only one common factor; each victim was of Indian descent, Cherokee specifically."

Leaning back in her rocker, Holly lowered her chin, eyes hooded and mouth tugged down in a frown. "There is a legend, a legend of a snake and a crystal that I remember."

"Would you tell us," Sam asked gently.

Holly nodded. Her voice dropped to a heavy whisper, her words moving in a rhythm Dean remembered from years before.

""There are quite a few stories around about the Uk'tena.

And not long ago, maybe ten years ago,

there was a crystal found, over on Tellico Plains,

when they were doing the excavation over there,

that was a crystal like the Uk'tena was supposed to have guarded.

And they found this crystal wrapped in a full deerskin

and put away the way it was supposed to have been

when it was put away not to be used anymore.

And when they were using this crystal

they had to feed it.

Then they had a formula or a prayer to put it to sleep with

when it wasn't going to be used.

But Uk'tena is the giant snake that was supposed to have guarded

this.

And there's a lot of stories about Uk'tena through the mountains

how large and fierce it was

And there's stories of it being a giant rattlesnake,

that I've heard.

And there' stories of it being a horned serpent,

a serpent with horns.

So I don't know whether there were two types of snakes that large

in this part of the country

or what it was.

And there's also stories about the people who lived in the

underworld

that rode giant rattlesnakes.

And the entrance to this underworld

was through the rivers and streams.

They would go into the big pools in the rivers,

go into the passages that led into the underworld

where the snakes were large enough to ride like horses.""

Dean rubbed his chin, stowing this information away for later analysis. This certainly complicated things a bit. Holly patiently sat back in her chair, eyes half closed.

"You mentioned a crystal the Uk'tena guarded," Sam prompted. "Can you tell us anything else about it?"

Intense dark coffee eyes snapped up startling Sam and Dean. For a moment Holly scrutinized them, eyebrows drawn in consideration, weighing the brothers against an invisible scale. Sam shifted his feet, unsettled by her sudden change in character. Dean on the other hand, having been at the end of such scrutiny before remained stoic. She would tell them when she was ready. One thing Dean learned during his stay last time was to respect the Cherokee. Cherokee believed in a moral code called _duyukuta_, which roughly meant 'the path of being in balance'. The call for balance among the people resulted in a deep understanding of humanity and nature. Eli Redfeather was a man devoted to _duyukuta_ as he was to the Lord. A kind albeit stern man, Eli provided Dean with the support he desperately needed after Sam left for Stanford. He showed Dean things he never noticed before and put into words what he knew since his mother's death. Eli too would study Dean when he asked questions requiring well thought answers. The old Indian listened to the silence for wisdom, Eli told him one time. He really wasn't surprised that many other Indians did the same. Incidentally Dean had completely forgotten about it until confronted by Holly's stare. Deliberately he shoved aside the blossoming guilt in his stomach.

"My grandpa described the stone large like a cartridge bullet,

that it's clear and transparent

with a line of red, like blood, running down the middle.

And there's stories of the crystal holding great power

when the right prayers are said.

Those prayers have long been forgotten."

A headache tugged at the edges of Dean's mind. Perfect. A stone of power from ancient times, a mythological snake, and a dozen murders with brands of a snake, and a diamond… crystal thing branded on the victims. Just lovely.

Dean asked, "Do you know where the crystal is, the one they found?"

Her body coiled like a spring, her entire frame rigid. Dean blinked in surprise.

"No," she replied sternly. "And ya must not seek it. Death awaits any white man who lays eyes upon it."

Sam exhaled deeply, his eyes swinging around to Dean. Dean didn't have to turn his head to know Sam was unsettled by this last piece of information. He didn't like it either. But whatever was killing these people it was connected to that crystal. How it was connected he had no idea.

"'m afraid I have ta get back to work," Holly said regretfully, breaking the silence that settled around them. Dean and Sam stood, taking their cue to leave. She held up her hand.

"But before ya young'uns go rushing out, I want ya to take a loaf of my bread. Nobody leaves my home without having some."

Sam opened his mouth to protest but Dean elbowed him sharply. Glaring, rubbing his sore ribs Sam tilted his head in question. Dean firmly shook his head. Picking up his feet, Dean came up behind Holly as the woman set three loaves of homemade bread on the counter. Bagging them, Holly handed the loaves to him.

"Three?" Dean asked, the corner of his mouth edging up. Holly nodded solemnly, glancing over his shoulder to Sam. "Ya have a growing boy to feed and I imagine he eats like a horse."

"Yeah, he does," Dean replied, eyes twinkling with amusement, as Sam turned red, mumbling under his breath.

"Thanks," he said sincerely, smiling gratefully. Holly's eyes softened, her lips curved in a gentle smile. Stepping forward, she embraced him. He pulled her close, realizing right then how much he missed this matronly woman. For a moment, his chin lingered on her shoulder before they separated. Holly repeated the process with Sam. Watching his kid brother be held by Holly, Dean couldn't help but feel pleased and a tad melancholy. He wished it were Naomi hugging Sam, albeit the sight of Naomi's 5'3 height next to Sam's 6'4 created an amusing picture. She had always expressed enthusiasm to meet Sammy after seeing him from a distance on multiple occasions. Sammy would have adored her, Dean knew. But the past is the past.

Sam loitered by the doorway, blushing with embarrassment at Holly's affection. Smirking, Dean bid Holly goodbye.

As the brothers neared the Impala, Holly called after them. "Dean, wha' happened to ya and Naomi?"

Dean straightened immediately, jaw clenching in pain and anger. Pivoting back to her, Dean answered stiffly. "She's died Holly. That's what happened."

Abruptly he turned back to the car and slammed the door. Wincing at Dean's reaction, Sam offered Holly an apologetic smile before getting in. Dean gunned the engine and the Impala roared away, leaving a stunned looking Holly.

* * *

Later that night, in a small motel room Sam laid stretched out across the bed waiting for Dean to get out of the shower. He kept reviewing the incident with Holly in his head. Her innocent question about Naomi put his brother in a terrible mood. Dean barely spoke five consecutive words to him the whole drive to the motel. Sam stuck close to him, unnerved by Dean's sudden imbalance with the memories this case dredged up. His brother didn't say anything but Sam caught the thankfulness in his green eyes.

Rolling over onto his side, Sam flipped through his notebook, examining the notes he took. The legend Holly told them seemed to be just that: legend. Unlike demons and spirits this thing was a giant beast, a monster that surely someone would have seen. He snorted. Yeah, saw and then died…which left Sam and Dean what they started with. The case also reminded him of the one Bobby had Dean and him working on when they first met Dante and Concha. As gory as those murders were this case seemed to take it a step beyond. Closing the notepad he shifted to the edge of the bed, stretching his abnormally long limbs.

Unbidden the image of Dean with Naomi slipped into his mind. Biting his lip, Sam glanced at Dean's jacket. Dean wouldn't be happy if he snooped for the pictures. Still the need to look at the woman who captured his brother's heart nagged at him. Stealing a glance at the bathroom door all thoughts of borrowing his brother's wallet vanished as the water turned off. Retrieving his laptop to hide the guilt sweeping through him, Sam settled at the tiny table hooking up to the wireless Internet. Dean emerged from the bathroom (more like a closet) toweling his hair.

"Your turn man."

Sam jumped up and grabbed his clothes. He felt his cheeks heat up at Dean's suspicious gaze. Maybe he got up a little too fast.

"Sammy, what did you do?"

He gave Dean his patented innocent look. "Nothing."

His brother's eyebrow hitched up. Uh-oh…

"Nothing huh? Dude, I just showered so I know I'm not the problem. I can't speak for you but I don't think hygiene is why you're set on getting into the bathroom."

"Hey! You're the one who's always filthy, falling into rivers and sewers and doesn't clean up right away!" Despite his snarky comment, Sam was relieved to hear his brother's sarcasm coming back.

"Well excuse me Francis but there was something more important occupying my attention at the time."

Sam snorted. "Uh huh. I'm sure the ghosts appreciated the stench giving away your position."

"Too bad they can't smell," Dean answered, dropping the towel on a nearby chair.

"No, but _I_ can," Sam replied sourly. Dean just laughed. "Get your ass in there."

Sam was only too happy to comply. As he stood underneath the warm flow he wondered again what Naomi had been like. Was she like his brother? Concha reminded him of Dean, with all those weapons she carried. He snickered remembering Dean's jealousy. Somehow Naomi didn't seem to be like that. Turning off the water, Sam sighed. Guess he'd never know.

* * *

**Reference:** "Legends of Uk'tena" from _Living Stories of the Cherokee_ collected and edited by Barbara R. Duncan and is in the double quotes (hopefully)

**Cherokee Translations**

_Osiyo_: hello

_Uk'tena_: The Keen Eyed


	4. Chapter 4

I still don't own Supernatural.

Chapter 4: Listen to the Silence…For it Speaks

_Darkness._

_Heart pounding in his chest, hands clammy and sweaty as a single inhuman scream sliced through the silence, he crept forward. The darkness grew murky, tendrils of gray light gathering before him on the soiled floor as the pale light floated through a window long devoid of glass. Sparing a glance out the splintered window he glimpsed the sliver thumbnail of the moon. Time was short, he didn't know why. Bypassing the window, he cautiously inched around the corner. There was no light at the end of the tunnel only shadows and inky blackness._

_A faint breeze aroused the smell of damp earth. Not the fertilized processed dirt used in everyday gardens but pure earth with accents of pine, wild roses, and spring water. He cocked his head, straining to hear. He could swear he heard something…there! Quavering words of desperation interrupted by harsh sobs; words he could make no sense of. Making sure the safety was off on his glock, he silently ran down the hall, trusting his instincts. Nausea rose in his stomach as the sweet smell of good clean earth became rancid with the coppery smell of blood, sweat, and fear._

_No…_

_Stretching out a hand he pressed against the shriveled remains of what must have been a wooden door. Sucker punched in the gut at the sight, he stumbled back, eyes wide with shock._

_A dark shape lay strewn carelessly across the floor, unmoving and blood soaked. Beside it was a smaller form, hunched over, gasps suggesting a female. When what he assumed to be the head of the woman lifted a fraction of an inch and the moonlight reflected in her empty cornflower blue eyes his mind screamed in horror and rage. Only then could he see her naked body, lacerated and bruised by a human monster…_

_Her mouth opened in a silent wail and the darkness spiraled around him, sucking him below as his failure became plain._

His eyes flew open, a whoosh of air escaping from his lips. Slowly, Dean remembered where he was: a motel room in Olivet, North Carolina with Sam researching a hunt. Licking his dry lips, Dean ran his hand over his face and through his damp hair. He hadn't had a nightmare like that since Sam rejoined him on the hunt. The images vividly passed before his open eyes and he heaved a deep breath, desperately trying to calm down. Sparing a glance at the other bed, he saw the log-sized lump of his baby brother curled under the blankets, lines of worry creasing his brow.

Pushing his body up slowly, he set his feet on the floor. Stretching out his arm, Dean gently rested a hand on Sam's head, smoothing his hair.

Sighing quietly Dean ambled silently to the bathroom, turning on the faucet. Cupping his hands beneath the running flow, he splashed the cool water on his face. Closing his eyes, he bent his elbows, leaning slightly forward with his face down letting the water slide down his chin and nose. Tremors racked through his arms as he struggled to banish the memories. He snorted bitterly. God, how he wished it had just been a nightmare! Sadly however that wasn't the case. It was a bitter memory; the memory of the first time he laid eyes upon the woman he loved after she'd shattered. Mustering all his control, Dean forced all the memories and feelings to the back of his mind where they had so long remained dormant.

Dean glanced at the clock as he came out. Four-thirty. Well, might as well begin the day. Quietly as possible, he gathered his clothes. Once he'd showered and changed, Dean felt much better, the terrors of the dream receding away. Opening the door, he smiled softly at a sleepy Sam, rubbing his eyes with his fist and looking like a small child. His brother squinted up at him.

"Dean? Wha-"

"Couldn't sleep anymore," Dean dismissed easily. Sam blinked at him, sleep still clinging to him as he followed Dean's journey across the room.

"I figured we could grab some breakfast then head to Cherokee and visit the local museum. Maybe it has some more information about the Uk'tena."

He glanced back at his brother. Sam was stretching, bobbing his head in agreement. "Sounds like a plan."

Sam was interrupted by a yawn. Smirking, Dean turned back to the table, waiting for the laptop to boot up. As Sam disappeared into the bathroom, Dean settled down in the antique chair trying to get comfortable on the impossible rocky cushion. Logging onto the Internet, he went to his email. Instinct told him that they stumbled onto something big and extremely dangerous. Craven proved he was a good friend as well as a valuable resource for some of the more ancient supernatural things the brothers had never encountered before. Hell, that damned boogeyman was evidence enough. If this hunt went south, as his gut told him it would, they would need all the information they could get.

Typing quickly, Dean outlined everything that had happened. Sam joined him, adding details Dean missed. Finished, Dean hit send and shut the laptop down.

Sam peered at him through his bangs. "You think he might have better luck?"

"I don't know. Hopefully."

Dean stood. "Come on. I'm starving."

Ignoring Sam's eye roll, he grabbed his jacket from the chair. Together Sam and Dean walked the short distance to the small local diner. Family run, and obviously very old with plank walls and oak flooring, the Gule Disgo, or the 'Morning Dove' was packed. Dean was surprised at the amount of people there. Everyone, from young to old seemed to be gathered together, talking and laughing, creating an oddly comforting hum. A few people glanced at the brothers as they entered but for the most part they went ignored. Surprised but not unhappy with the lack of scrutiny, Dean headed for an empty booth near the back. As he passed, some of the customers murmured greetings in their native tongue, dipping their heads. He answered back hesitantly, carefully.

"Siyo. Tohiju?"

Many eyebrows rose and eyes twinkled with delight.

"Tohigwu, wado," came the murmured replies.

Behind him, Sam repeated his brother uncertainly. "Siyo."

Dean was aware Sam had no idea what he was saying but deemed it to be polite from the respectful looks coming their way. Sitting down in the booth, Sam spread his arms out across the table.

"Said hello," Dean explained nonchalantly. Sam narrowed his eyes and inwardly Dean groaned. Great.

"When did you learn Cherokee? Yesterday you acted like you didn't have a clue. What's the deal, man?"

Shrugging aside Sam's question for the moment as the waitress approached, Dean silently prayed Sam would drop it. He focused instead on the teenage girl. She was pretty; with chestnut locks shoulder length, chocolate eyes, and sturdy build. Her nametag read 'Kitty'.

Smiling, showing a mouthful of pearly teeth, "Di-da-ni-lv-sdi. Go-we?"

Dean grinned charmingly at her. "Yes please. Black."

'Kitty' must have seen Sam's confusion. "Would ya like coffee?" She asked in a deep southern drawl. Sam nodded, his mouth relaxing as his confusion faded. "Yeah, um, black please."

"All right. Ah'll be back with ya coffee. Ya guys gonna order anythin' else?"

Dean nodded, picking up a menu from the back of the table. She bobbed her head before sauntered away.

Sam's gaze bore into him. "Well?" Dean met Sam's inquiring gaze squarely. He should have known Sam wouldn't leave it alone.

"Sam," he sighed, "it isn't relevant."

"Yes it is," Sam replied stubbornly. He leaned forward. "Come on man. You said hello, in _Cherokee_, like you've been speaking it all your life. There's a connection between you and these people, man."

His head snapped up at that, anger brewing in his heart. "There is no connection," Dean hissed. Sam was treading on dangerous ground. He hoped his brother realized quickly because Dean's temper was rapidly rising. Dean wasn't angry with Sam; he was angry with himself because Sam was right. He _was_ connected to these people. He had worked beside them, laughed, and learned with them. Because he stayed he put them in danger; he put _**her**_ in danger. Dean's eyes filled slowly with water. For two years he had managed to forget everyone and everything about North Carolina. But since the connection between the murders and the Cherokee legend, the memories he suppressed were slipping past his guard, haunting him at every turn.

Abruptly standing, he muttered, " I'm going to the head." Sam grabbed his sleeve before he could pass. Dean gazed down at him, silently begging to be given space. His brother's eyes were wide, sorrow and guilt pooling in them. He softened his gaze. Reassuringly he squeezed Sam's shoulder before turning away. Dean could feel Sam's eyes following him the whole time till his disappeared inside the restroom.

* * *

Staring at the wall, Sam idly wondered how cedar boards could form such fascinating patterns with knots and gnarled age lines. He slammed his hand down on the table, growling in frustration. Several reproving stares came his way but Sam could care less. How could he be so cruel? Of course Dean connected with these people. He loved an Indian for Pete's sake! Dean had not offered up much information about her, only the main facts he revealed just under a week ago including that he developed a strong relationship with, not just Naomi specifically, but the Cherokee. Holly Silverwood offered living proof of those past friendships.

For as long as Sam could remember, Dean never developed ties with really anyone outside his family. The exceptions being Bobby Singer and the deceased pastor Jim Murphy until recently with Craven, Dante, and Concha. Nonetheless Dean still kept them relatively at arm's length. A protective measure enacted by pure instinct. Often Sam wished Dean could allow someone to get close and at the same time wanted his brother all to himself. Within the past week his old perceptions of his brother were being shattered, revealing layers Sam didn't know Dean had. How could he be so close to his brother and not know this?

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as an excited squeal from his right cracked through the steady hum of conversations. Craning his neck Sam watched with mild bemusement as Kitty sprinted towards a young woman entering the door. The woman was petite, shorter than Kitty by a few inches at least, slender, with curly golden hair cascading over her shoulders. Her maple eyes warmly gazed at the younger girl, her lips curved in a kind smile.

Sam couldn't understand a word the excited waitress spouted off as she clasped the woman in a tight embrace. He didn't need to really. Kitty glowed with happiness as she chattered a mile a minute. The woman just laughed, sparkling and full. She hushed the girl, speaking with a fond gleam in her eyes as she gestured to the back. Together they moved towards the kitchen, speaking rapidly in hushed tones. Unable to see the pair anymore, Sam slumped down in his seat.

Where was Dean? He should have been back by now. As if he heard his thoughts, Dean appeared beside him. The older man settled down on the padded bench, picking up his menu. Sam watched him, unsure what to say. Dean saved him the trouble.

"Hey Sammy, you should totally try this quail omelet special." Dean stated seriously.

"Dude, that's just gross." Sam tried to frown but couldn't keep the corners of his mouth down. Dean smirked back at him, eyes full of love and forgiveness. Sam wondered, not for the first time, why he deserved such a great big brother. This whole hunt was hard on Dean and yet here he was, calmly telling Sam everything would be all right when Sam should be the one telling him that.

Before Sam could retort Kitty appeared with their coffee. Her eyes dancing and arms trembling with excitement Sam was surprised she hadn't dropped the pot. He couldn't say the same for the porcelain mug in her hand teetering dangerously over his brother.

"Whoa there Kitty," Dean said, catching the mug before the hot liquid dumped onto his lap. She smiled apologetically.

"Sorry. An old friend of mine jus' got back," Kitty explained hurriedly. "Ah haven't seen her since I was fifteen an…"

Kitty trailed off, cheeks rosy with embarrassment. Dean smirked.

"Well we won't keep you. I'll have the eggs over medium, bacon, and gravy."

"And I'll have the pancakes," Sam said, handing her the menus. He wasn't taking the chance some quail might end up in his meal. She scribbled down their orders before departing with a thankful smile. Turning back to Dean, Sam rallied his courage to ask his brother again about Naomi.

Dean beat him to the punch. "Sam, you have to understand; I lived here with these people for over a month. Its—its not easy, dude, being back."

Sam swallowed thickly. He did understand. Chewing the inside of his cheek, Sam carefully asked a question pestering him.

"Dean, why didn't you say anything? A week ago you told me about a woman who," Sam winced, "who you loved and that she died. You never said anything about staying here for a while before heading back out."

Sam naturally just assumed Dean had left a couple days after the hunt concluded, not sticking around for a whole month! He levered an accusing stare at his brother. "What else haven't you told me?"

Watching the shadow return to Dean's face, Sam wished he kept his big mouth shut. Why did he always have to hurt his brother with his thoughtlessness? To his surprise, Dean folded his hands, resting them on the table and met Sam's gaze for a moment before looking away. The glimpse of agony in the green depths made Sam sick to his stomach.

"I don't remember," Dean murmured so quietly Sam barely heard him. Clearing his throat, Dean repeated a bit louder. "I don't remember much. Everything about this place, I guess I couldn't keep thinking about it. Not after she…I—I just couldn't."

He shrugged. It dawned on Sam then just what his brother was trying to say. Dean had been in so much pain he had buried the memories of Naomi and everything associated with her so far down he completely forgot. The memories simply lurked far beneath the surface, buried in Dean's subconscious, inaccessible until now. Whatever Dean did here was gradually coming back, explaining his restlessness and silence. Ashamed, Sam hung his head.

"Sorry."

"Don't worry about it Sammy. I shouldn't let it get the best of me. We have a job to do."

Scowling at his brother's depreciating remark over something so profoundly impactful, Sam decided to let him go for the time being. Instead he changed topics, asking, "The Ulun'suti crystal is supposed to be extremely powerful right?"

Green gold eyes snapped up to his face, instantly alert and surprised by the shift in subjects. "Yeah. So?"

"So, just what power is it that attracts so much attention?"

Dean settled back against the booth, sipping his coffee, patiently waiting. Feeling suddenly like a small kid, Sam hurried on. Damn him! How did Dean always make him feel like a child with just one look? Really he should be used to it, but still…

"The crystal must be guarded by the Uk'tena for a reason, right? So, I think that the crystal has enough power to say, probably bring around death or something."

"Well Holly did say that anyone who looks at Uk'tena is liable to die. But that's the Uk'tena, not the crystal. What's your point Sam?"

"My point is what if whoever or whatever's doing this wants to use them both? The Uk'tena for death and the crystal for," Sam waved his hand, "whatever it is the crystal does."

"We're talking about the next apocalypse aren't we?" Dean asked with a rueful sigh, massaging his temples. Sam grimaced an agreement. Everything lately had been building up towards one, whether or not Dean would like to admit it.

"And the murders. Possible sacrifice?"

"Most likely," Dean replied thoughtfully stroking his chin. Sam mulled over the facts they knew thus far. It hit him like a ton of bricks. Twelve deaths, a symbol representing death, and two other symbols on the victims' bodies possibly having something to do with a snake legend and a stone no one had seen. What did it all add up too?

Just then Kitty arrived with their meals. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the plate stacked full of enormous, fresh fluffy pancakes the size of the dinner plate, drenched in butter, gooey maple syrup, and fresh juicy strawberries before him. Geez, he'd never seen pancakes this big! A childish grin of delight spread across his face from ear to ear. He barely noticed Dean watching him with amusement as he greedily dug into the still steaming pancakes. Upon sampling his breakfast Sam immediately began eating as fast as possible.

He started when Dean and Kitty burst out laughing. Embarrassed, he mumbled, "It's good. And I'm hungry." The last part sounded more like a whine then he intended and Sam ducked his head, letting his bangs hide his eyes.

"No problem. Ah'm glad ya like 'em. Gideon's the best chef this side of the Mississippi if ya ask me. He'll be mighty pleased to know his customers 'preciate his cooking." Kitty said, motioning to a man standing outside the kitchen door. Sam's jaw dropped. The man was as big as a freaking Kodiak bear! Beside him the blonde woman, Kitty's friend, looked no bigger than a baby bird, a mere lamb at the mercy of a ferocious lion. The pair were exchanging words, laughing and bantering with ease. Gideon noticed Kitty beckon and excused himself to greet his new customers.

"Hello boys," Gideon said, his deep tenor resonating in his chest. Still a bit intimidated by the giant in front of him, Sam managed only a weak hello in return. Dean on the other hand, grinned.

"Hey Bear," Dean drawled cockily.

The man blinked, astonishment creasing his copper skin before throwing back his head, laughing heartily, potbelly jiggling.

"Ya know pup, I wondered if ya'd be back. Holly kept on sayin' you would be back. Reckon the gal is having a good laugh at ol' Bear."

Sam gaped, gradually processing that the giant towering above him knew Dean as the men exchanged firm handshakes. Just how many people did Dean know?

"Bear this is my brother Sam," Dean pointed to him and Sam took the offered hand. Bear's hands were thick and tough as leather. The name 'Bear' certainly suited him. Sam licked his lips nervously as Bear's sienna eyes moved up and down his frame.

"So this 'ere is the pup who landed in that big league school," Bear said, nodding approvingly. Sam glared at Dean in surprise.

"Oh don't worry yourself pup," Bear rumbled. "He didn't say nothing bad. Jus' was mighty proud of his little boy."

Sam's mind whirled with the implications of Bear's last statement. Sure, he knew very well now that Dean was proud of him, always had been, but he never considered others would see him as Dean's child. Concha noticed because her relationship with Dante provided her with a similar view and understanding of how their relationship came about and Craven understood because he was a spirit; err ethereal entity, but a complete stranger? Through bleary eyes Sam caught Dean's proud smile and idly wondered why he wasn't embarrassed.

"I—" Sam started, before trailing off without a clue as what to say. Blushing furiously, Sam stabbed at his pancakes desperately trying to cover his embarrassment. The three grinned like Cheshire cats.

"Yep that's Sammy. Eloquent as always," Dean ribbed, smirking. Bear and Kitty chuckled.

"Yeah, and you're the king of propriety."

Dean offered his shit-eating grin. "Nah, too up tight for me."

"Scalawag," Bear growled, with a quirk of his cheek. Dean just smirked.

Sam sank into his seat, wishing he could just disappear and to kick Dean's ass. He pasted on his most innocent look, peering at Dean pleadingly. Dean grinned, enjoying Sam's discomfort far too much for Sam's liking but thankfully changed the subject. He asked Bear about his business, about his family, and what else Sam didn't know. Sam tuned out the voices content to observe his brother.

Sadness still lay heavy in the shadows of Dean's eyes but as he chatted with Bear his eyes lightened just a bit, the laughter peeking through the dark veil shrouding his green irises brought a small bubble of warmth to his chest. Bear, while a giant of a man, was kind and quiet, his words rolling from his mouth like a rumble from a distant waterfall, steady and calm. For all the calmness Bear displayed Sam got the distinct feeling that to cross him was equivalent to committing suicide. And Bear cared about Dean. As with Holly, the look in the Bear's eyes of fondness, respect, and trust took Sam off guard. Movement just beyond the chef and waitress caught his attention.

Craning his neck as discreetly as possible Sam peeked around. Kitty's friend met his gaze, grief and longing palpable in her face. The corner of her mouth lifted in a small attempt at a smile before dropping away as her gaze slid once more to Bear and Kitty. Mutely she turned and shuffled out the door towards a running gray pick-up, the driver merely a dark silhouette. The truck pulled away and Sam wondered why he suddenly felt abandoned, like a child watching his mother drive out of his life forever. Blinking back the sudden surge of emptiness, Sam dismissed the feeling. He only felt like this once when he deserted Dean to search for their father in Sacramento and Dean obliged him and drove away. But he'd known Dean his whole life; Sam's universe revolved around Dean, his big brother, his protector, his parent. No way should he feel something that strong for a woman he didn't even know! Picking up his fork and spearing a piece of pancake, Sam idly dipped it in syrup trying to rationalize with himself. He blinked as Bear lumbered away, Kitty following in his wake. Masking his confusion, Sam went back to eating hoping Dean wouldn't notice anything amiss.

Dean glanced at him, studying him for a moment before starting on his own meal. They ate in silence, content to just be near each other. While Dean paid the bill, Sam waited by the door, staring out the window. For a moment Sam could have sworn he saw the same gray truck parked across the street unoccupied. But he must be imaging things, right?

Antsy to leave, Sam turned his head back to Dean. His brother currently speaking with another waitress abruptly cut off his sentence, looking over to meet Sam's eyes. Dean's face didn't seem to change but Sam knew Dean was evaluating him. Saying a few more words to the waitress, Dean strode to his side, catching his elbow. Apparently Sam looked as uneasy as he felt. Gladly letting his brother tow him to the Impala, Sam peeked in the direction of the gray truck and sucked in his breath.

The truck was gone.

* * *

**Translations:**

_Di-da-ni-lv-sdi. Go-we_: Welcome. Coffee?

_Siyo_: Hello

_Tohiju_: How are you?

_Tohigwu_: I am well

_Wado_: Thank you

Please don't forget to review!


	5. Chapter 5

I still don't own Supernatural. Thanks to bayre for being my beta.

* * *

Chapter 5: The Museum

"And in 1785 the Cherokee and the United States government made their first treaty, the Treaty of Hopewell," the elderly tour guide explained blandly. Even from the very back of all the spectators Sam saw her clearly, the pinched expression of her mouth and frosty eyes as they swept the group. Shuffling his feet, keeping his gaze down, Sam hedged closer to his brother. Dean was, not surprisingly, ignoring the guide all together, instead scanning the artifacts, pictures, and explanations surrounding them as they moved into the next room.

Sam followed Dean's gaze to a shabby yellow photo matted on the wall. A demure woman's piercing gaze tore through him and he sucked in air. No way. It couldn't be. Unconsciously he took a step forward shocked by the uncanny resemblance. A gentle oval face, stubborn chin, and sad kind eyes molded the older woman who could be the spitting image of Kitty's friend in about fifteen years.

"Eleora _Dohi Waya_ Rawlins."

"What?" Sam swung his focus away from the familiar comely figure to his brother's serious face.

"She was a medicine woman before the Removal."

"A medicine woman?" Sam repeated, looking back at the photo. Letting his eyes roam around the frame for a description, Sam finally found the name in about a size six font in the bottom right corner. Squinting, leaning down to see better, Sam read aloud:

"'One of the greatest healer's of the eighteenth century, Eleora Rawlins also known as Serene Wolf offered refuge for the pioneer and warrior alike in her humble home. All who came to her were changed men.' Wow, changed men huh?" Blowing out, shaking his bangs away from his eyes Sam tried to resume normal breathing. It was just a coincidence, just a coincidence, absolutely nothing to get worked up about.

"Eleora was a healer Sammy, of physical and emotional stuff far as I can tell. She did a lot for the people." Dean tapered off.

Straightening, Sam asked. "What is it?"

The loud squawk from the guide to stick with the group interrupted Dean. Sharing a covert glance, the brothers hurried to join the other tourists. Lingering a few steps behind the stragglers as they marched into the next room, Sam nudged Dean impatiently.

"Once Eli mentioned that Naomi's mother was a descendent of Eleora Rawlins," Dean said in a whisper. Sam tripped over his own feet, crashing into Dean.

"Watch it man!" Dean grabbed him, pushing Sam back onto the balls of his feet. Sam wasn't surprised Dean immediately noticed his trembling grip.

"Sam? Sam, what the hell?" Despite the harsh words, the concern behind Dean's strong grip on his shoulder remained pleasantly reassuring.

"Naomi, she, she would be a descendent of Eleora too then, right?"

"Yes." Dean's brow wrinkled in confusion. "What does that got to do with this?"

"Dean, that picture, I swear I saw her at the diner."

Immediately Dean stiffened at his side. Sam could only imagine the thoughts running through his brother's head right now. Everything Sam's statement implied…

Fisting his hand in Dean's jacket Sam pleaded.

"Please Dean, you've got to believe me!"

Shocked, Dean simply stared at him for a moment before his gaze grew hard. Obediently Sam followed his brother into the small room thankfully containing a bench and out of sight of the group. Dean pushed Sam down onto the bench firmly. Sam winced.

"Ow! Hey, you don't need to be so pushy."

His comment met with a concrete stare. Clamping his mouth shut, Sam slumped. Angry Dean definitely did not qualify as somebody to challenge, not with that glint in his eyes. Sam knew Dean would never hurt him. He also knew that confusion and pain running rampant with Dean's emotions made him unpredictable on some levels. Sam knew his older brother better than anyone and right now there were a few ways this could play out. Scenario one: Dean explodes; Scenario two: Dean completely shuts down. Yep, that about covered it.

Peering up at his older brother, Sam watched Dean scrub his face wearily. "Tell me Sammy."

"Remember when Kitty got all excited about her old friend?"

Dean nodded affirmative.

"I saw Kitty greet the girl. Didn't seem to be anything special about it you know, just two old friends excited to see each other. I couldn't understand what they were saying anyway."

Dean twitched impatiently at Sam's attempt to stall. He hurried on, knowing it was inevitable.

"And while you were talking with Bear I got a better look at her. She was, I don't know man, just really sad. When her gaze met mine I—I don't know." Sam pinched his nose, unsure how to explain the bizarre emotions running through him. He shrugged it off; he couldn't explain it and no point trying to tell Dean.

"Sam."

One word. One simple word and Sam wanted to cry. He already knew his brother's next question and he wished he didn't have to tell him. It would only crush Dean's budding hope.

"I'm sorry."

"You're," Dean's voice cracked, " You're sure?

"Yeah. She was blonde, brown-eyed and walking fine."

Sam's heart bled. Dean had said that Naomi was dead but some part of him must have always clung to the hope of her being alive somewhere. The sag in his brother's proud shoulders went away a moment later. Sam blinked as Dean turned a perfectly neutral face to him, amazed and saddened again at his brother's ability to push aside anything he felt.

"Does this have anything to do with why you were so anxious to leave?"

Caught off guard by the question, a flash of guilt and unease bolted through Sam. He quickly schooled his expression. Luck didn't seem to be on his side.

"What did you see Sam?"

Sam recognized the question for what it was: an order, not a request. "When, you and, uh, Bear were talking I saw the woman leave in a gray pick-up. Someone else was in the driver's seat but it was too dark to see whom. And, when we were leaving, I saw the truck again. I looked away for not even a minute…" Sam shivered. "It was gone."

Dean stared at him, still a bit confused.

"Dean," Sam whispered, "There wasn't anybody in the car."

* * *

Dread built in his stomach at Sam's words. Alarms screaming in his mind, Dean closed his eyes, running his hand through his hair.

"You're sure?"

Sam nodded, his shoulders drooping a little further as he whispered, "Yeah."

"Okay Sammy. We'll be on our guard." Dean gave Sam a stern look. "No wandering off alone Sam."

_No shit_, Sam glared. Dean didn't really mind as long as Sam understood. No way in hell would they be splitting up now, not with this new development. But Dean couldn't let Sam know just how much it worried him. Poor kid didn't need the extra stress.

Tugging gently on Sam's hair, Dean smiled at him. "Come on kiddo. Lets finish this tour so we can get out of here."

Dean didn't pay any attention to the rest of the tour. His mind racing a hundred miles an hour, sirens blaring unceasingly around him, Dean sifted through the pieces. A gray truck, a blonde haired woman, and a bad feeling were all he had to work with. The woman being the most troubling of them all. Sam said she looked just like Eleora. Dean showed Sam the pictures of Naomi a week ago, and not for very long. No way the kid remembered exactly how her face was shaped or the twinkle in her eyes. However, Eleora, Dean knew, could be the spitting image of Naomi. Impossible. Sam described the woman as blonde and brown eyed, the exact opposite of Naomi's midnight black locks and cornflower blue eyes. It could be a shape shifter for all he knew. Why then did his heart think otherwise? He remembered talking with Bear, joking and questioning in a manner he didn't believe himself capable of. Warmth. Happiness. Grief. The emotions passed through him during the reunion. And they weren't his.

His knees turned to jelly. Abruptly crushing his emotions, shoving them down Dean silently willed his heart rate to slow. _No. Not now. Scream and destroy later. Don't kill the annoying tour guide_. Dean returned her glare unrepentantly, anger simmering close to the surface. The guide hastily moved on to the next exhibit. Dean sneered. _Back off lady, you have no idea who you're dealing with_. And Dean Winchester was pissed. Sam shouldered him hard, giving him an exasperated glare. Clenching his teeth to keep biting words from emerging from his mouth Dean jerked his head, breaking away from the group and heading towards another room. The title above the doorway read: **The Legends Room**. How original.

People milled about all ends of the room enjoying the displays. Dean moved towards a sign not really paying any attention to the words. Mulling over the gray truck Dean once again had a bad feeling. That truck connected somehow. How exactly? Shaking his head, focusing for the first time on the board in front of him, Dean quickly read through the words. A retelling of how the Wolf Clan came to be the doctors and healers for the whole nation during the older days. Hastily he moved to the next, unsettled. Glancing to the side he saw Sam reading another legend. The title read: "_The Pleiades"_. Silently Dean ghosted to Sam's side.

"Pleiades is a group of six stars in the sky and according to this the stars were originally six boys who loved to dance. A seventh boy became a pine tree to point up at his friends. Concha would sure like this."

Dean bobbed his head slightly. "Definitely. We'll have to find her a souvenir later."

Sam moved over to the next exhibit and promptly froze.

"Dean."

With a few long strides Dean closed the space between them.

"Sam?"

Following Sam's stare he blinked. The Legends of Uk'tena. They looked at each other in astonishment.

"Oookay," Dean breathed, crossing his arms, shifting his weight closer to Sam.

_Too easy_ a voice whispered in the back of his mind. _Way too easy_. Skimming through the article Dean didn't find it surprising that it offered no new information about Uk'tena or the crystal. It had been a long shot at best. From the side, he noticed Sam furrow his brow as he bent closer to a painting.

"Dean, check this out."

"Hmm." Dean couldn't help raising an eyebrow as the picture came in better view. A mixture of ocean blue hues splayed across the background like clouds trapped in a whirlwind while a pair of beady red-black eyes leapt from the canvas, malevolent and fiendish, from deep sockets painted with shades of smoky green and iron scales marking the back and spicy mustard ran down its belly. A set of dripping fangs and dark horns resembling a buffalo completed the grotesque image of Uk'tena. A shiver of dread worked its way down his spine. It may have been just a painting but the fear Uk'tena evoked in man pulsed even in the paint.

Dean caught Sam's arm pulling him away from the freaky painting. Time to leave. He needed some time to think away from all these people and security cameras. They could not afford to draw attention, not with Dean's name on the F.B.I's most wanted list. The feds would be down on them faster than one could say Metallica. Sam obediently followed him.

Walking out the front doors Dean felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. They were being watched. Outwardly Dean kept his face blank, giving no hint whatsoever he knew of the spy. Sam tensed in his grip.

"Easy Sammy," Dean murmured as he spotted the Impala parked in the distance. His guard up, Dean let his eyes casually sweep back and forth across the area. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. Fancy cars made of plastic and aluminum painted red, white, silver, black, and occasionally blue sat in rows like corn stalks up and down the parking lot. He barely kept the intense sigh of relief from escaping him as he unlocked the passenger door to the Impala. Dean made a show of going to the trunk, searching for snacks before getting in himself, his gun tucked in his jeans and a bottle of holy water in his pocket. He offered Sam the peanut M&M's and soda. Sam accepted them uneasily, popping a few of the sweets into his mouth his eyes shifting between Dean and the outside.

Dean smiled gently, patting Sam's knee before putting the Impala in reverse. Driving out of the parking lot and onto the main road Dean checked his rearview mirror. His pulse quickened. For a moment he glimpsed a distinct gray truck before it disappeared. He tightened his grip on the wheel. This really sucked. No doubt the driver knew where they were staying and their purpose here. So what could Dean do? The safest place for the time being would be their motel room. Pressing his mouth together tightly he pushed harder on the gas as the Impala flew down the road.

"Dean, where are we going?"

"Back to the room," he answered in a clipped tone.

Sam stared at him for a moment, protest ready to burst forth at his brother's decision. From the corner of his eye Sam bit his lip, nodding as he turned to look out the window. Dean released on hand from the wheel, reaching out to place his hand on Sam's neck, squeezing gently.

"Its our best choice Sammy. I don't like it either but at least we have our weapons in the room and we know the layout. We can get ready."

Sam's sad puppy eyes bore into him. But he offered up no protest. Dean squeezed him one more time before returning his hand to the wheel.

* * *

"Don't be foolish girl. That boy loves you."

Naomi shook her head firmly. "No Holly, he loves the memory of me, the old me. I'm not that person anymore."

"And why not?" Holly put her hand on her hips, frowning in confusion. "Ya haven't changed that much child. If anything you have matured."

"Gee, thanks." Naomi slumped down in the chair beside the older woman. Taking the brown contacts from her eyes, she absently tossed them on the table, propping her chin on her fist, releasing a soft sigh. Dropping her hands back into her lap, Naomi thought back on the incident in the diner. He did not look much different from the last time they were together. Certainly he had become older, careworn, and as handsome as her memory recalled; a fine specimen of a man that she should be dying to take back. Why did she hesitate? Afraid he no longer loved her? That he had moved on? Naomi shook away the sudden surge of jealousy. If anyone deserved to move on Dean did. Naomi groaned. Going in circles, and blast if they weren't the same circles her mind had been running for the past year, annoyed her to no end. The problem now that she had the chance to speak to him and she could not muster the courage to even let him see her. Naomi snorted at the irony.

A wrinkled hand gently grasped her own. Holly studied her for a moment before speaking quietly in hushed tones. "Ya have been searching far and wide for him Naomi. Don't let him slip away from ya now."

Naomi didn't answer.


	6. Chapter 6

Again, thank you Laura for being my beta. Enjoy!

Chapter 6: Fangs and Herbs

Twilight descended swiftly over the town. Reluctantly Naomi bid Holly farewell and mounted Sundancer. If she cut across town she should be able to be at George's house before dark. Nudging Sundancer gently, she set off at a light trot down the road.

_I wonder who that younger boy was_, she mused. Boy. He wasn't a really a boy, probably just a few years younger than Dean. Still, he reminded her of a little boy with his scruffy, floppy brown hair and eyes that could put a puppy to shame. Naomi rolled her eyes at her foolishness. So what if she felt protective of him, felt like she knew him? He was an adult and perfectly capable of handling himself. Besides, he was with Dean for Pete's sake. Dean's protective instincts were second to none especially concerning his little brother…

Naomi froze. Where'd that come from? Brother? The boy was Dean's brother? Shaking her head, Naomi wet her lips. It felt right. Fit like a piece of a puzzle in her mind. Searching her fragmented memories Naomi recalled an incident in a local library where she had worked during her stay in California.

_The sky shone flawless blue bringing cheer to Naomi's heart. After a week of clouds and smog she welcomed the sunshine. Humming quietly, she sifted through the stack of mystery novels she was sorting onto the shelves._

"_Um, excuse me."_

_She glanced over her shoulder to see a lovely young woman with strawberry blonde curls and sapphire blue eyes smiling at her somewhat apologetically. Naomi set the books aside, standing up, brushing her hands across her jeans._

_"How may I help ya ma'am?"_

"_My boyfriend came in here about an hour ago and I, well, we have an appointment with a professor in less than fifteen minutes." Her cheeks pinked. "He said he was going to do some research but I can't find him anywhere."_

_Naomi grinned. She knew exactly who the woman was looking for. "Come on. I think I know where we can find him."_

_The woman smiled in relief, falling in step with Naomi as she led the way towards the very back of the library._

"_Your boyfriend is the size of Sasquatch and has scruffy brown hair, right?"_

_The woman giggled. "That's Sam."_

_Naomi huffed a laugh. "Yeah, well he loves to go into the oldest part of this ol' library digging through the archives. Jody always complains about his books and notepads being all over the place when she comes back here. She says he's been researching old court cases and whatnot like there is no tomorrow for the past week. Is he working on a paper for a class?"_

"_Yeah, our government teacher assigned a large term paper that's due at the end of the month." The woman rolled her eyes in fond exasperation. "Sam's not one to wait till the last minute."_

"_No, he certainly isn't," Naomi agreed quietly. She stopped in front of a door with a beige tag that read __**Historical Archives **__pulling it open slowly__ The woman was surprised. "You actually have a room called 'Historical Archives'?"_

"_Hey, don't look at me. I just put books on the shelves," Naomi replied, holding up her hands in mock innocence. She smirked, "Since students studyin' to be lawyers frequent here, the director decided to make a room where they could work without taking all the space from other folk."_

"_I can understand that," her companion laughed. "Oh there's Sam."_

_Naomi peered around the door to see a boyish lad sitting at a table, books and notes spread around him in organized mayhem. She shook her head wryly._

"_Thanks for your help."_

"_No problem ma'am."_

Naomi frowned, confused. Too many pieces of the puzzle were still missing. When she visited the library nearly a year ago no could tell her exactly why was she working there. Did it have something to do with Dean's brother and his girlfriend? Her thoughts cut off when Sundancer reared.

"Whoa girl!" Naomi cried, leaning forward, placing a calming hand on the mare's neck. Sundancer paid her no mind, muscles tense as she stomped furiously. Unfortunately Naomi was leaning too far forward and she tumbled onto the unforgiving ground with a soft cry. Pain burned through her arms and black spots winked in and out of sight. Closing her eyes tightly she willed the agony away. Her leg throbbed badly from the impact and she tasted blood. Great. She must have bitten her cheek when she fell. Swiping the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand, Naomi gingerly raised her torso. The blond wig lay in the dust beside her, limp and pitiful. Well, she planned on disposing of it anyway. Her attention shifted from the wig to the dark long shadow a few feet away. What the—

Shrieking in surprise, Naomi propelled her body backwards as the dying snake lashed out at her. _Damn! I hate snakes!_ Sundancer seemed to agree with her sentiment, tramping her hooves on the snake's diamond head. Now it was a very _dead _snake.

"Sunny, you and I have got to stop running into these guys," Naomi panted, one hand over her hammering heart. "It's getting _really_ old."

And worrisome. Everywhere she turned lately a snake was slithering around, either a copperhead or a rattlesnake of some unnatural size. Thanks to Sundancer the slimy creature was dead at least. Weakly Naomi stumbled to her feet. Ugh! She'd have some very nice bruises in a few hours. Peachy. Brushing the dirt off her jeans Naomi moved closer to the nervous prancing mare.

"Hey girl, you done good," she cooed soothingly. Gently she rubbed the golden muzzle, speaking more words in her native tongue. Sundancer calmed, waiting patiently for Naomi to mount. With a grunt of pain Naomi remounted, turning the mare back towards the road. The pair barely went more than a few feet when a cracking boom shattered the night air. Naomi jumped, whirling around. That wasn't thunder. It was a gunshot.

* * *

Marching, marching, marching. Their black clothes hid them from sight, letting them move as fluid beings from one shadow to the next. Six in total, staffs and machetes in hand, marching through the night. For but a moment moonlight caught the sinister face of one, his deformed skin rippling like a reptile, eyes venomous yellow, a crown of pointed bones adorned his filthy dark hair marking his rank before the darkness swallowed him again. And the earth trembled.

* * *

Dean glanced out the motel window. The sun nearly disappeared in the west and high above the stars were burning bright. He doubted it would be as peaceful as the night sky promised. Checking the salt lines for the tenth time, Dean still couldn't shake his growing agitation. He spared a glance at Sam and swallowed a sigh. Since the museum the kid was unnaturally quiet. Many times since they arrived back at the motel Dean caught Sam staring off into space, shotgun clasped loosely in his hands. Sam currently slumped in a chair, watching the window, his chin dipped down. His bangs hid his eyes from Dean's inspection but he knew exactly what Sam's expression was. Brows furrowed together, eyes wrinkled, and chewing his lip; a sure sign of Sammy's confusion and unease. Not that Dean blamed him. This whole case was starting to ride on Dean's nerves. The gray truck was eerily reminiscent of the black ghost truck of the late Cyrus Dorian. That similarity alone prickled the hairs on Dean's neck. Oh, he hoped they didn't have another possessed truck on their hands! One was more than enough, thanks very much. Still, a truck capable of pulling the disappearing act when he came back to the hometown of both his former flames was quite a coincidence. To bad Dean didn't believe in coincidences. He completed another circuit around the room by then and he casually lifted the curtains to peek outside. He blinked, heart rate starting to increase rapidly. Oh shit.

"Sam!" His quiet sharp bark caused his brother to jump.

"What?"

"There wasn't any rain in the forecast was there?"

Sam blinked. "Huh?"

Dean didn't answer. He slipped the curtain back in place, backing up cautiously until he was next to his brother. Without sparing a glance in Sam's direction Dean grabbed the kid's collar hauling him to his feet. This was going to be very, very bad.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam demanded, swatting Dean's hand. Dean hushed him immediately, never taking his eyes away from the door. Little brother seemed to catch on, tensing underneath his hand, gun held at the ready. Both jumped as the lights flickered, buzzed, then resumed their normal glow. Dead silence followed. Not even the crickets chirped.

Dean narrowed his eyes. The door vibrated like a taught string before it crumpled into splinters and woodchips, flying wide open, icy wind racing through open space and blowing away the carefully laid salt lines. At the same moment the windowpane shattered, the glass pieces hurling everywhere. He didn't have time to react before Sam tackled him to the ground. Rolling his brother onto his back so Sam was pinned beneath him, Dean stretched his neck around. A large nut settled in his stomach. Black and bulky, a form filled the doorway, glowing yellow eyes with black slit pupils peered at him laden with delight. Lamplight caught on the machete held loosely in its grasp. It reminded Dean of _Jurassic Park_ and the Tyrannosaurus Rex. Crouching on remains of the window, another black form, much tinier in stature but radiating a cunning that his larger counterpart did not quite have, stared with equal hate and ecstasy. Dean mentally dubbed him the Raptor.

Rex took one-step forward, the razor edge of the blade rising. Dean didn't wait; he brought up his gun and fired. His shot was straight and true, striking the target in the heart, at least where the heart should be. Beside him, Sam fired a shot at Raptor at the window. With an enraged hiss that sounded anything but human, both raised furious words in Cherokee Dean had never heard before. Crap. Consecrated iron shot obviously didn't work. Before he could plan a way to get any silver bullets, an invisible force wrapped around his naval and suddenly Dean was airborne, crashing brutally into the wall. Drywall and plaster cracked and fell, dust whirling through the air as wood splintered. Pain blooming in his head and shoulder, Dean coughed wetly, eyelids fluttering. Everything was blurry and distantly he heard Sam's frantic shouting. Blinking rapidly, the blurs beginning to clear, he noticed a shiny blade coming down right toward his head. Instinctively he rolled to the side, barely escaping the razor edge impaling his back. Drawing back his legs Dean kicked out hard, hoping he hit at least something vital. The yowl of pain confirmed he had. Snatching his gun from the ground, Dean scrambled to his feet, blocking another blow of the machete before clocking Rex across the head. Dean whipped around in search of Sam, ice racing through his veins. Sam lay pinned beneath a chair, the straight back at his throat, the body restraining his hands from reaching the gun a few inches away. Towering above him, his machete held high above Sam's throat in execution form, Raptor was cackling gleefully.

Enraged that the monster thought it could off his brother, Dean snatched Rex's fallen machete from the debris and threw. With a howl Raptor staggered back clutching the oozing stump of what was once his hand. Raptor's machete landed mere inches from Sam's shocked face. Furious, Raptor snarled at Dean and charged.

"Move Sam!" Dean barked roughly, diving behind the bed as Raptor over jumped, crashing into the same wall Dean had. Unfortunately Rex was regaining his equilibrium, staggering to its feet dazed and angry. Sam seemed to unfreeze at Dean's bellow and he bucked the chair off, snatching his gun and Raptor's machete from the floor. Rex, apparently deciding Dean was too difficult a target, turned his attentions to Sam. Crap! Scrambling around the bed, driving a harsh kick into Rex's back propelling the giant forward into alignment with the machete in Sam's hands. Rex dropped to the ground, head at its feet. Sam lifted his horrified gaze from the dead creature only for his eyes to grow bigger than ever. Idly Dean wondered if Sam's eyes would burst free from his head. Eck! That would be just gross.

"Down!"

Not thinking, Dean just dropped to the floor as the gun fired over his head. He managed to look up in time to see Sam's shock before his little brother was flung backwards into the remnants of the motel door resulting in a loud splintering crack and muffled thud as Sam landed on the asphalt. Sensing the wounded Raptor behind him, Dean crawled forward, desperately hoping he'd reach the machete embedded in the wall. The same force that sent him into the wall the first time snared him again, sending him head first towards the wall with cannon-like force. Bringing his hands up he managed to cover his head before impact. Moaning, Dean tried to move only to be abruptly flipped over onto his back, leaving him gasping as his throbbing ribs and head smacked the hard floor. A dark face and fiery eyes swallowed his entire vision. He couldn't seem to move, much less think, almost as if he were falling under a trance. Distantly he heard a voice chanting and the hunter in him recognized the danger, trying to pull away. The chanting only increased in volume. Dean groaned. Make it stop!

"DEAN!"

The terrified shout from his little brother shattered whatever hold the snake eyes had on him. With Herculean effort, Dean pulled the blessed silver knife Dante had given him from his waistband, slashing hard across Raptor's middle. Reeling backwards, smoke curling from the cut, Raptor released an ear-shattering shriek. Covering his ears, with one hand, using the other to claw his way up the wall and to his feet, staggering to the door, Dean desperately called out to Sam.

"Sam! Sammy! Where are you?"

His cries were drowned out by the creature's incessant screams. Only then did Dean realize his mistake. Too late. Raptor was upon him like a predator on his prey. Fire cut through his flesh, blazing through him unexpectedly and Dean couldn't stop the scream from escaping his lips. His knees gave out beneath him, the ground quickly coming up to meet his already damaged body. Distantly he heard something strike Raptor and despite his rapidly slowing thought process he reasoned Sammy must have thrown the machete. One final hiss filled the air then Raptor was gone. Dean didn't see it leave but he knew simply by the lack of oppressing darkness and harsh breathing. As quiet returned to the night not even Sam's desperate pleading could keep him from succumbing to the unconsciousness that beckoned to him. His last thought before everything went dark was, "_I'm sorry Sammy"_

* * *

Watching his brother crumple, a stained white bone sticking into the vulnerable flesh of his shoulder, fear sucker punched Sam in the gut. Scrambling to reach the machete, the fear morphed into anger, the anger into full-blown fury. He took careful aim and let the blade loose, watching in satisfaction as the Raptor stumbled back several steps. Hideous yellow eyes lifted from Dean's prone form. With a hiss it disappeared into the shadows. Groaning in pain, Sam tried to walk towards his brother but his knees suddenly had a mind of their own and could not hold him. Apparently adrenaline was taking an early leave.

"Dean? Dean! Talk to me dammit!" Sam crawled forward hastily, ignoring his aching ribs and back.

He reached out, hand trembling, digging his fingers into his brother's jacket. "Dean?"

Sam's voice sounded small and frightened even to his ears. Checking for a pulse, Sam nearly started sobbing in relief as he felt the thin but racing pulse. Dean's entire frame shuddered. Sam leaned forward, studying the small curved bone that had taken his brother down. Why was it familiar? He knew it was trouble, big trouble but he couldn't remember why. Vaguely he heard running steps approaching and a strange staccato beat his muddled brain couldn't place. Whipping his head around did not turn out to be a good idea. Jackhammers were ringing in his temples, his vision slightly blurry, and for a moment Sam could have sworn he saw a woman astride a golden horse. Shaking his head, he looked again and his eyes grew wide. She came to a halt a few feet away, swinging off her mount with a natural grace Sam had never seen. Blue eyes met his and somewhere in the depths of his confused mind he recognized her.

Kneeling down beside them, she gave Sam a once over before focusing her attention on Dean. Her hands examined Dean's injuries keenly, brushing over the bone with a feather like touch. Sam jumped when she spoke, her voice soft and urgent. "How long has this been in him?"

I…I'm…I'm not sure," Sam managed to say around his dry tongue. "Can you…?"

"I will do all I can," she answered firmly. Her next words made no sense to him and only then did he realize they were not alone. Bear and another man were standing in a half circle around them, muscles bunched at the ready, eyes scanning their surroundings. The man Sam didn't recognize gave a stiff nod and took off at a sprint. Bear handed the woman a small bag, speaking again in what Sam realized must be Cherokee. Her answering reply was grim and just as mystifying as the rest.

"Sam, I need you to get his jacket off. We can't afford to let the poison travel any further into his blood stream."

_How does she know my name?_ _Maybe Bear told her_. But that wasn't important now. Dean was. Obediently, he carefully removed Dean's jacket, setting it beside him. Dean moaned slightly and Sam felt hope spring in his heart. He let his hand drop on his brother's unwounded shoulder.

"Hang on man. Someone's here to help."

If he had bothered to look up he would have seen her startled face before she resumed opening the bag and removing the contents. He continued talking to his brother in a hushed voice while the shirt around the wound was cut away and the snake fang, which Sam finally realized it was, was removed and a crushed herb applied. Sam didn't really pay attention to what she did exactly; caring only that the longer the herb was applied Dean's spasms grew smaller until they were merely shivers. She removed the herb finally and put it aside, taking a bandage from the unknown man and carefully dressing Dean's shoulder.

"We need to get him inside. He has a fever. Bear?"

The giant man grunted and before Sam could protest or stop him, Bear had Dean cradled in his arms like a small child. Without pausing Bear strode away, his steps long and fast but incredibly smooth. Sam didn't care. The man was walking away with his brother!

"No! Stop!"

"Its okay Sam," the woman soothed. "Bear's taking him someplace safe. Come on, let me look at you."

"No," Sam snarled, pushing her hands away, struggling to his feet. He needed to be with Dean! Bear was rapidly becoming smaller and the farther away the man carried his brother the more terrified Sam became. He pitched forward, his long legs not strong enough to support him. He expected to meet the cold unforgiving ground again but instead landed on something soft and sturdy.

"Sam, for goodness sake, sit down! I promise Dean will be fine. You're no good to him if you keel over because you refused treatment!"

That penetrated the fog of fear and anger in his mind. Sam went limp. Somehow her petite form got him to the ground without jarring him too badly. He felt numbness spreading through his entire body. This was all his fault. If he had only paid a bit more attention and not been trapped by the creature, if he hadn't been thrown outside and yelled Dean wouldn't have let his guard down. The calloused hands sliding over his arms, checking for bleeding did not register in his mind. A hand grasping his chin, forcing him to look up did. He stared at her in despair. Her eyebrows knit together and she brushed her finger across his cheek. Blue narrowed and Sam wondered if she saw through him, saw his guilt. Sam yelped when she touched the back of his head. She drew her fingers back, dark and sticky. Sam stared at them in wonder. He was bleeding? From the head so that meant he most likely had a concussion, right?

Groaning, he closed his eyes, dipping his head down. He just wanted the pain to go away. He wanted his brother. He wanted Dean. Sam didn't know how or why but he knew that she understood his need.

"All right. Let's join your brother."

Another pair of hands gripped him underneath his arms, pulling Sam to his feet. He swayed and wished the world would stop spinning. Two pairs of hands held him steady. Not the familiar ones that had guided his every step in life but strong and kind nonetheless. Sam trusted these hands to guide him safely. Later he would not recall the walk to Holly's shop, how Bear picked him up in the same manner he had carried Dean and taken him upstairs to a bedroom. There were twin beds and Dean was already in the one nearest the door. Holly sat beside him, her bright disposition from their first meeting shadowed by the worry lines around her mouth. The bed was quite comfortable and Sam watched everyone through glazed eyes.

The woman came to his side, dabbing a warm washcloth on his brow. He tipped his head to one side, blinking. "Who…?"

A sad smile crossed her lips, an eerily familiar sad smile. "I'm just a friend."

He couldn't muster the strength to say anything else. The gentle ministrations she provided lulled him to a state of being half asleep. His eyes were at half-mast, watching her check on Dean. Big brother was resting fitfully and Sam wanted nothing more than to get up and curl up beside him, safe and secure, but sleep beckoned. Dean was close by, he was okay for the moment, and Sam's battered body was demanding rest. The last thing he saw before sleep claimed him was her bent over Dean before she moved to stand at the window, her arms crossed protectively across her chest. It was raining.


	7. Chapter 7

Normal disclaimers apply. Translations and references provided at the end of the chapter.

Chapter 7: Venom

Naomi was grateful Sam finally succumbed to sleep. His concern, his fear, for his brother was poignant and she'd much rather he missed what the next several hours would bring. She grimaced. Dean's stomach would contain nothing before too long.

Taking a deep reaffirming breath, Naomi stepped away from the window, pinning her hair up loosely in a bun. Bear ducked through the door, a basin of water in his hands with Holly on his heels, her arms laden with towels and fresh bandages. Absently she directed them where to lay their burdens while she shifted her attention to Dean. Bare from the waist up, she could not help admiring his muscular form. Her appreciation was accompanied by sadness at the sight of the scars and abrasions spattered over his torso. So many scars! And not all of them were even fully healed. Did he ever have the chance to rest? Shoving her sentiments aside, Naomi dipped a towel in the cool water, wringing it carefully before laying it across the 'bite'. _Bite_. Ha. Naomi frowned, anger creeping up her spine. This wound was inflicted with a deliberate purpose: to kill or disable wholly. A regular snakebite never went this deep.

"_Oginali_, what must we do?"

She started, having forgotten the presence of Holly and Bear. Lifting her chin, "Behind the seat in my truck…Bear could you please?"

The grizzled man nodded, moving out the door before she finished. Naomi smiled weakly, relieved her old friend understood. A hand grasped her shoulder gently. Maple brown eyes held her blue, brimming with faith. Nothing needed to be said. Holly's belief was enough. Naomi lifted her arm, clasping the wrinkled hand tightly then dropping her hand back to her side. It would be a long night for them all.

* * *

Sam moaned, rolling onto his side. _Owwww_! Where was Dean? Why did his head hurt? What was that smell? The memories assaulted him all at once. The fight with the snake men. Being thrown into the parking lot. Dean being stabbed with a snake fang…Snake fang?!

Springing upward in the bed, "Dean!"

"Easy lad. Ya needn't move so fast yet."

"Huh?" Blinking blurry eyes, Sam struggled to focus on Holly. The elderly woman applied a damp cloth to his forehead, clucking her tongue. Sam grabbed her hand. "Where's Dean?"

It was barely perceivable; the tightening of her lips, the dimming in her eyes, but Sam was taught by the best. She half turned, giving Sam a clear view of his brother. His breath caught. Sam wasn't sure which was whiter: Dean or the sheets. Sweat beaded Dean's brow, purple and blue bruises stained his neck, the bruises mirroring the cruel hand that tried to crush Dean's windpipe. A dressing covered Dean's entire shoulder and Sam swallowed hard, guilt flooding him.

"Lay down," Holly ordered, pushing Sam back down. "Ya have no business being up and about right now. That was a nasty crack to the head ya took lad."

He swatted away her hands. "I'm fine."

Holly frowned, clearly not believing him. Rising, she draped the washcloth on the rim of a basin resting on the nightstand between the beds, pausing to inspect Dean. Abruptly she left the room. Taking advantage of Holly's absence, Sam took stock of his surroundings. It was a rather rustic room with wood flooring, light blue gray walls, and two oak dressers on either side of a window with lacy curtains, no doubt homemade. By far it was much more homey then anywhere the brothers normally stayed. He could hear Holly speaking in the hall to someone but the voices were too low for him to make out any of the words. A moment later a young woman entered the room. His heart rate increased. In the early morning light there was no mistaking who she was despite her haggard appearance.

"Naomi?"

A sad wry smile, "I wondered if you'd recognize me."

Pushing his body up, a grimace and groan later, Sam was sitting against the headboard. Anger bubbled inside him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth. "You're dead."

She snorted, "Hardly," busying her hands with Dean's fresh bandages.

"Dean believes you're dead," Sam snapped. Naomi bowed her head, her raven hair hiding her face from view.

"I know."

He would have said more, ripped into her for the unwarranted hurt she inflicted on Dean, only words failed him. Her acknowledgment carried so much guilt and sorrow. Swallowing, Sam picked at a loose thread on the comforter, glancing up at her through his bangs before looking at the wall. Silence lapsed between them, tense and suffocating. Naomi finished, tossing the dirty bandages in the trash. Then she left the room. Sam slumped in the bed, rubbing his fingers on his temples miserably.

"Sam."

Startled, Sam slammed his back into the headboard, grunting in pain, his head swinging around to find a steaming cup in front of his nose. Out of instinct, Sam grabbed the cup. He peered down at the amber liquid, nose scrunched.

"It's an herbal tea. It will help with the pain."

Taking a sniff, Sam stuck out his lower lip, frowning in distaste. He didn't want to drink this! Why couldn't he just have some Tylenol?

Naomi maneuvered around the opposite bed. "The tea will help a hundreds times more then Tylenol, Sam. Just give it a try."

Sam looked up from the not so appetizing drink. How did she know what he was thinking? Naomi offered a knowing smile, preparing another cup. She perched on the edge of the bed, holding Dean's head up, the cup pressed lightly to his lips. Dean shifted, moaning, quieting as Naomi murmured reassurances, accepting the warm liquid bit by bit.

"How is he?" Sam asked in a small voice, not caring he sounded like a frightened little boy. Naomi did not immediately respond. "The worse is past, I think. His fever broke about four this morning. I'm hoping he will wake in a few hours."

She set the empty glass aside. Blue eyes focused on Sam sternly. "Drink."

With a pout Sam obeyed. Ugh! It tasted as bad as it looked. He finished quickly. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth he held out the empty mug. An eye roll later the empty cup was taken from him. Naomi disappeared out the door again, leaving Sam alone with his unconscious brother. Sam peered at Dean, biting the inside of his cheek, wishing he'd wake up, smile his cocky smile saying 'I'm fine' even when he wasn't. Her assessment was Dean would wake in a few hours. Sam couldn't wait that long. He threw back the blanket, the distance between them suddenly too great.

"Dean." His brother's name a whisper on his lips as he half lunged half tumbled forward, orangutan arms flailing in attempt to grab his brother. Sam curled his fingers around his brother's arm, the flare of pain in his knees and back ignored, pulling himself closer to Dean.

"Dean." Sam whispered hoarsely. _Wake up! Please wake up! Come on bro!_ Sam pushed against Dean's shoulder. _Yes! Yes, open your eyes!_ A slit of green gold cracked open, the dilated pupil seeking someone. Sagging against the bed, Sam released the breath he did not know he was holding, resting his cheek on Dean's bicep. The muscle tensed beneath him, Dean's arm curling up so his hand could rest on Sam's head. Dean always knew what Sam needed, always provided it, even comfort when Dean was the one injured. Burrowing into his brother's touch, Sam soaked up the assurance greedily. He hated it when Dean was hurt! Hated it!

A sigh filled the air. "Sam, you need to be in bed."

Sam glared at her, and any smart person would have backed off but Naomi came around, hands resting on his shoulders. He tried to shrug away but Naomi was not easily deterred. "Sam, you need sleep just as much as he does."

Shaking his head stubbornly, Sam tightened his hold on Dean. No, he wasn't leaving his brother's side! Naomi tightened her grasp on his shoulder. It did not hurt but Sam understood it as a warning. "Unless you want to be moved into the next room, you'll get back in bed."

Wide-eyed Sam snapped his head around, staring at her in horror and anger. "You can't do that!"

"Sam, the poison is not completely out of his system. I said the worst is past, not that it was over. There is still a possibility of a relapse," Naomi explained sternly. "I cannot tend him if I'm tripping over you every time I turn around!"

Her words kindled panic in Sam's heart, his knuckles turning white, felt the blood draining from his face. Naomi knelt beside him, staring straight at him. He looked back at her, pleading, desperate to stay near his brother, unwilling to hinder the healing process, confused by her presence. Cool, calloused fingers brushed hair away from his eyes, the gesture reminiscent of a mother reassuring her child, her hand lingering. The other hand remained gripping his shoulder, an offering of strength and comfort more powerful then any words she could have spoken. Sam didn't comprehend all the emotions passing across her face but he did identify understanding, her acceptance of Sam's need to be close. Giving Dean one more squeeze, Sam reluctantly pulled away. Naomi helped him back into bed, checking his knees and redressing the cut on his forehead. It felt good to have her caring hands soothe his aching knees, their coolness as she inspected his forehead. But it wasn't Dean's hands tenderly checking over his injuries, it was a stranger.

"I'm sorry I spoke so harshly."

"What?"

She sighed, her hands falling into her lap. Naomi did not look at Sam, focusing instead on Dean's face. "I can't lose him, not again."

Sam sensed she wanted to say more. He remained silent, watching her intently. This was the woman Dean loved, the same woman who helped Dean on a hunt, inadvertently intertwining their lives. The details concerning their relationship were sketchy, but Sam knew from the little Dean told him that he had loved her completely and she him. Why else would Dean be so moody the last few days? Despite his anger at her for lying to Dean about her death, Sam decided to try and hear her out before judging her. Maybe she could explain what happened.

Naomi observed him for a moment. "What has Dean told you?"

"Not much," he admitted, watching her warily. "You and your uncle were kidnapped by someone after he left on a hunt." She nodded. Sam continued slowly, "He, um, said Eli was—he didn't make it and you—at the hospital you woke up with amnesia."

Holly coming to the door cut off whatever she may have said. The elderly woman spoke in a soft voice, Cherokee words that Sam couldn't make head or tails of.

"We'll talk later Sam." Without another word Naomi rose from the bed and walked out.

Sam fumed. He wanted answers damn it! There was something off about Naomi's reappearance and Sam didn't know if he wanted her near Dean at all. For all they knew it was a demon in disguise or some other supernatural creature! _Why did she help you then?_ The logical part of him argued she couldn't possibly be evil. Why would she help them? She could have killed them both hours ago. But why did she choose to resurface now, when the brothers were on a hunt involving a Cherokee myth? He continued to ponder the reasons for her re-emergence as he ate the chicken noodle soup Holly gave him. The shopkeeper hovered at the end of the beds, her attention shifting between Dean and him. She often rose to check Dean's bandage, dabbing a wet cloth on his forehead, giving him small sips of water. Holly Silverwood was another mystery. If Holly really was a part of a hunter family shouldn't she have been able to give them more information about Uk'tena, particularly when it involved her heritage? His stomach turned. Holly could have lied to them. But to what end? He needed his laptop.

"Um, Ms. Silverwood?"

"Call me Holly dear."

"Uh, okay. Holly, um, I was wondering if I could get my—," Sam stumbled, unsure if he should let her know his intention to use the laptop. "My bag," he finished. Turning on the puppy eyes, Sam hoped she wouldn't pick up on his blunder. Holly did not seem to, agreeing almost immediately. Not fifteen minutes later Sam had the bags in his hands. Taking a pair of fresh clothes, Sam eagerly entered the bathroom to shower. The hot water felt wonderful and Sam would have gladly stood beneath the spray for much longer but he was eager to get back to Dean.

Back in the bedroom, Sam settled on his bed, chewing his lip, recognizing the painful spasms of Dean's muscles and his moans. His face seemed paler then earlier, sweat trickling down his face and arms. Holly was strangely absent from the room, and no one else was around. Biting his lip, he waited for someone to come, but no one did. Dean's shivering was getting worse. Sam laid his hand on Dean's forehead and gasped. He was burning up! Where was Holly? And Naomi? Why did they leave Dean alone? Why did _he_ leave Dean alone?

"Dean?" Sam asked tentatively, squeezing Dean's uninjured shoulder. "Dean."

The only response was a sharp groan, the shivers upgrading to shudders. Fear seized Sam. "Dean. Dean, wake up man. Dean!"

Still no response. Sam glanced around the room feverishly. Damn it, the first aid kit was still in the Impala. He scrambled over to the basin, snatching the washcloth. Dean's groans were getting louder and Sam could have sworn he heard him mumbling. Using the damp cloth, Sam gently wiped it across Dean's face. The touch of the washcloth served to only aggravate Dean, his groans becoming sharper as his muscles clenched beneath Sam's hand. Not knowing what else to do, Sam shouted for help.

"Holly! Holly! Somebody help!" As there was no answer, Sam grew more and more afraid. "Naomi! Naomi!"

Distantly he heard a responding yell. "Naomi, please, _HELP_!" Sam cried, Dean arching suddenly, a scream tearing from his lips. Sent tumbling aside by Dean's unexpected kick, Sam stared at his brother in horror. DEAN!"

"Sam, what's—"

Naomi didn't finish. She sprang forward latching onto Dean's arms. "BEEAAARRR! GET UP HERE NOW!"

Keeping her hands on Dean, Naomi snapped her head around towards Sam. "Where's Holly? Why isn't she here?"

"I don't know," Sam replied clambering to his feet, approaching her side. Naomi growled something unintelligible under her breath. "Sam, I need you to do exactly as I say, understand?"

Sam didn't hesitate. "Yes ma'am." He would do anything to help his brother. Anything. Naomi peered at him and for a moment Sam could have sworn he saw a flicker of pride before her face became a solemn mask.

"Get Dean onto his side. Keep talking to him, about anything, just make sure he knows you're with him."

He quickly obeyed. Unfortunately it was easier said than done. Dean was fighting him, his muscles taut, his torso slick with sweat. Then there was Dean's weight to contend with. His older brother may be shorter but he was all muscle. With a grunt, Sam managed to dodge Dean's flailing fist, rolling Dean onto his right side. He murmured a steady stream of nonsense, keeping his hand on the middle of Dean's back. Dean convulsed. Wet, smelly gunk splattered into the trashcan Sam barely managed to get under Dean in time. Among the yogurt colored goop there was a quarter size drop of blood. _No… Dean did __**not**__ just cough up blood!_

Naomi spat furiously. Her words may not have made sense but her harsh tone implied she was cursing. Not good. She probed the area around the snakebite, face darkening in anger, peeling back the bandage to reveal the motley swollen puncture.

"_Gado u sti_ Naomi?"

"_Yona, antivenin nulisdvi_!"

Bear disappeared from the doorway. Not a second after he left Dean deposited another Technicolor eruption into the trashcan. Sam wiped Dean's face, grimacing in sympathy. Spitting up your guts was never ever fun. A familiar smell caught his attention. A wet sticky substance dripped on his fingers. His heart dropped past his stomach. Blood.

"Here."

Taking the fresh rag, Sam swiped the blood from Dean's mouth and nose. Why was he bleeding? There shouldn't be any blood, should there? Naomi mumbled under her breath, pouring some anesthetic on a cotton swab, cleaning the area around the bite. It took a moment but her words grew clearer although Sam still didn't have a clue what she was saying.

"_Dunu'wa, dunu'wa, dunu'wa, dunu'wa, dunu'wa_." Naomi rubbed circles around the bite, her words low like a mother's lullaby. "_Sge! Ha-Wala'si-gwu tsu lu tani ga. Dunu'wa, dunu'wa, dunu'wa_."

"Naomi."

She took the syringe from Bear, checking the dosage and cleaning the needle. Then she injected Dean. Handing it back to Bear, Sam watched in tense fascination as she gently blew on the swollen hole. Four circles around of air, then a fresh wet cloth covered the bite. All the while Sam muttered to his brother, threats and pleas mingled in an endless barrage of words. He gripped Dean's arm tightly, willing Dean to know he was there. Naomi was speaking again in a soft plaintive voice.

"_Dayuha', dayuha', dayuhu', dayuha', dayuha', dayuha. Sge! Ha-Usugi-gwu tsu –lu tani' ga. Dunu'wa, dunu'wa, dunu'wa, dunu'wa, dunu'wa_."

It seemed like forever to Sam, in reality it was only a few minutes, Dean's convulsions faded, his breathing becoming slightly steadier. Naomi released a deep sigh. "It's okay Sam. He's safe."

For a moment Sam's shoulders slumped in relief. However the fear in his gut steadily morphed into anger, the weight of his fear and anger too great to contain.

"What the hell was that?" Sam snarled, rising to his full height of six foot four. "You said the worst was passed. What did you do to him!?"

"I—"

Sam cut her off furiously. "You miraculously come back from the dead and just _happen _to show up when we take a case involving the Cherokee. You just _happen _to show up just after we were attacked. And you just _happened_ to be in the diner yesterday morning! What the hell are you?"

Before Naomi could answer a fist made contact with Sam's jaw, the force so severe he was propelled off his feet, his tailbone making first contact with the wooden floor, the back of his head striking the dresser. The pain was startling vivid, drums pounding in his ears, his vision swirling in and out of focus. Distantly he recognized Naomi barking at someone to leave but it faded behind the bongo band in his head. Through blurry eyes he could see Naomi kneeling down beside him, reaching out for him. He grunted, struggling backwards to escape. Her movement halted.

"Sam. Sam, please. Let me help you."

"Nuuuuuuh," His head hurt so badly. He just wanted the pain to go away. He just wanted Dean to be awake and his usual snarky self. Naomi waited, her hands held palms up, her gaze steady. Sam's body betrayed him, shaking and aching worse then before. A whimper slipped past his defenses as the pain spiked.

"Please Sam. I know I have a lot of explaining to do and I promise I will tell you everything I can. But right now you need to be in bed."

He shook his head. "Deeee," he slurred, unwilling to rest when his brother nearly died because Sam left him alone. Sam needed to be on guard; keep Dean safe. Naomi gently touched his shoulder. Caught off guard Sam flinched. But her hand remained.

"I won't leave Sam. I'll be right here with the both of you until you are better. I promise."

For a moment Sam considered fighting her, but the nausea and vertigo were getting stronger. "Okay," he gasped, pressing the heel of his hands on his eyes. A hand came between his shoulder blades, her body shifting to accommodate Sam to his feet. She paused for a moment, giving Sam the time he needed to prepare. Silently counting, Sam commanded his legs to lift him. The muscles in his legs groaned with effort and if Naomi had not supported him Sam knew he would have fallen. As it was he staggered across the floor, trying to reach the bed. Naomi never let go. Not until she tucked him beneath the blankets.

Closing his eyes, taking deep breaths, Sam struggled to relax. The pain radiating from his jaw coupled with his aching back and throbbing head left Sam miserable. Something cool touched his lips.

"Drink this Sam. It will help."

Obediently Sam sipped from the cup, valiantly trying not to let the taste get to him. By the time the cup was empty though he was practically gagging. A light chuckle interrupted his pity party. Naomi offered a watery smile, replacing the tea with water.

"I agree. It tastes like spoiled cabbage or something but at least it works."

Sam snorted, unable to stop his lips from curling. The unexpected humor in her voice eased some of his worry. Dean always did that too. His grin slipped away. Naomi brushed her fingers through his bangs dragging his attention to her face. With deliberate carefulness she reaffirmed her earlier words. "Sam, I will not leave you two alone again. You have my word."

She softened. "Get some sleep."

A soft hum filled the air, a familiar tune but one Sam had not heard in many years. He watched her lower Dean onto his back, her every move, her every touch speaking of her devotion. Fresh gauze was taped over the bite, a balm applied to the bruises on Dean's neck, a dry towel used to wipe away the excess sweat, and finally a soft blanket draped to keep him warm. To Sam's utter amazement, she pressed a light kiss on Dean's cheek, her lips lingering before she withdrew.

When Sam woke later he noticed that the sun was fading into the west. He'd slept the whole day through! At least he felt better. Allowing his head to loll to the side, he checked on his brother. His eyebrows rose beneath his bangs. Naomi sat slumped in a chair, half facing the door, head resting on Dean's arm, sleeping peacefully. His eyes followed the length of Dean's arm to their intertwined hands. They looked so natural together; it was uncanny. As he studied them, dread wormed it way to settle in his chest, making it difficult to breath. Dean was safe but Sam feared he was about to lose his big brother in a far worse manner: to a woman's love.

tbc...

* * *

Translations:

_Oginali: my friend_

_Gado u sti_ _Naomi_: _What is it Naomi_?

_Yona, antivenin nulisdvi: Bear, the antivenin at once!_

* * *

_Snake Treatment Formula _Translation from James' Mooney's "History, Myths, and Sacred Formulas of the Cherokee".

_Dunu'wa: it has penetrated -_an old verb that's meaning is sketchy at best

_Sge! Ha-Wala'si-gwu tsu lu tani ga: Listen! Ha! It is only a common frog, which has passed by and put it (the intruder) into you._

_Dayuha': possibly a form of dunu'wa_

_Sge! Ha-Usugi-gwu tsu –lu tani' ga: Look! Ha! It is only an Usugi-gwu, which has passed by and put into you_

EndNotes: Antivenin is a serum created by injected a horse with snake venom and withdrawing the antibodies in the blood.

Any mistakes concerning the accuracy of the Cherokee language are mine.


	8. Chapter 8

Standard disclaimers apply

Chapter 8: Some Explanations

"You need to rest."

Naomi simply shook her head, continuing to ladle the soup for Sam into a bowl. She didn't have to see George to know her cousin was scowling. His concern was touching, really, but she made a promise, and Naomi never backed down from a promise. Heck, the only reason she was in the kitchen at all was because Sam was awake and coherent enough to watch Dean. The cherry on top of the whole situation was Holly still missing. Naomi did not dare take time to rest. Catnaps would have to do until Bear returned with some assistance. A glance at the kitchen clock confirmed it would be fifteen minutes at best before Bear returned. A throaty groan escaped her as she fixed the tray and headed for the stairs. Before she could begin her struggle up the stairs the tray was gently pulled from her hands.

"I'll carry this. No sense exhausting yourself further."

The resignation in George's voice stung. Why didn't he understand she must care for Sam and Dean? Why couldn't he see her desire, her _**need**_, to be there for them?

"_Wado_," she murmured. George offered a small, worried grin as he turned and went upstairs. Carefully, Naomi ascended after him, the ache in her leg flaring with each step. There was no denying George was right; she was beat. Her shoulders slumped lower with every painful step up, bowing beneath the weight of the responsibility and guilt.

Dean lay on the brink of death, twice, in a time frame of less than twenty-four hours. Never had she felt so afraid, so desperate as when she entered the room to see him convulsing. All she wanted was to crumble to pieces; cry and scream at the injustice but she could not waste precious time. There was no time for doubt, for tears, for self-recrimination. His life depended on her acting swiftly. Now, with Dean once more on the mend, she found herself unable to shake the dread taking root deep in her heart.

Sam had every right to feel threatened, to be angry and suspicious. If the situation were reverse Naomi did not doubt she would react in a similar fashion. After George punched Sam however, Naomi realized the younger man would be hard pressed to trust her. He seemed to have accepted her promise to not leave them and to explain what happened three years ago. But did he really trust her? Naomi doubted it. Sam wanted answers and was probably waiting for her to come in so he could start his inquisition. But how could she answer him when the very answers he sought eluded her too?

Another sigh escaped her lips as she detoured to the bathroom, splashing water on her face. Wiping her face dry she paused for a moment, staring at the reflection of a woman with hair messily tied behind her head, the dark bags growing beneath her tired eyes, and the paleness of her skin. In short she looked like a zombie. Snorting, Naomi headed to the bedroom to face her interrogator. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

She forgot that as a hunter, Sam would want proof she was human. First a dousing with holy water accompanied by a silver knife at her throat and she fought the urge to sigh. Blinking the water from her eyes, she peered up at Sam, who was studying her fiercely. Without warning Naomi grabbed his arm and dragged it down across her chest. Blood frosted the previous clean silver.

Sam hastily pulled away, startled, the knife falling to his side.

"You're human."

She nodded. "Yep."

The anger rebuilt in his dark eyes. "You better explain everything."

"I can't."

He froze, staring at her with a surprised look before it morphed into frustration. Naomi took a deep breath to calm her nerves. First things first.

"Eat that while it's hot," halting his protest by raising her hand, "And I tell you what I know."

Taking a strip of cloth, she pressed it down on the cut. At least it wasn't deep. Thank goodness for Sam's quick reflexes. Quickly swabbing the area with medicine, she put a butterfly bandage in place. All the while Sam watched her, fidgeting his spoon around in the bowl. Finished, Naomi meandered between the brothers, sinking quietly beside Dean, directly facing Sam.

"As you know," Naomi began, her voice subdued, "my uncle and I were kidnapped. Eli…I..."

Her throat closed, the words turning to ash in her mouth and she swallowed convulsively. Lowering her head, Naomi focused on Dean's hand. Somehow his hand was clasped between her's, although she did not recall the action. As her fingers rubbed over the skin she could feel the calluses, the hardness, the places where the tissue was uneven and jagged, commemorating his harsh life. For all their imperfections she found his hands to be quite beautiful. Vaguely she recalled always admiring his hands.

"Naomi? Naomi!"

"Wha—" Naomi shook her head, mind fuzzy but whether it was the memory or her exhaustion she didn't know.

"Are you okay?"

His concern was genuine and caught her off guard. Why did Sam care? Didn't he believe she caused this? Didn't he blame her for Dean's proximity to death only hours ago? Steeling her resolve, she brushed aside his question. "I'm fine."

The frown marring his features made his opinion clear about her dismissal but Naomi overlooked it. Sam was desperate; hoping for something she did not think she could provide. Truth in this case was not simply black and white. Many shades of gray bridged the spectrum between the two. Their meanings ambiguous to her from the beginning, growing more smudged and distorted with every remembrance and innovation. To explain this to someone else when _she_ did not understand it required time and thought. Well, more time than she'd had. Tending to Dean and Sam had consumed her thoughts for the past two days.

"Ask me one question at a time. If I feel it is too personal I reserve the right to not answer. Fair enough?"

Sam didn't immediately reply, taking the time to shove in a spoonful of broth. Swallowing, he lifted his gaze. "Deal."

Inwardly she sagged in relief. Her reprieve did not last.

"You were at the hospital afterwards and you woke up with amnesia, right?"

"Correct."

"And, in your amnesic state you remembered nothing? Not Dean or anyone else?"

"Yes," Naomi replied cautiously, unsure where Sam planned to take this.

"You remember him now?"

"Mostly," she answered truthfully. He studied her hard. "Why did you go with your aunt if you couldn't remember her?"

Touché. Naomi considered her response. "Accordin' to the doctors at St. Mary's Hospital in Victorville, a blood test was run initially when Sandra came forward. DNA confirmed she was my father's sister."

"You were there?" Sam scrunched his brow. Naomi nodded, "I went there just this past spring. Seemed like the place to start."

"Wait, back up. How long did you have amnesia for? Why'd you visit the hospital?" Confusion colored Sam's voice.

Okay, obviously time to back track. Sam would never trust her if she didn't explain the extent of her memory loss.

"The amnesia is not gone completely," she admitted, "but I had it until the winter before last. At least that's when the dreams started." Naomi paused, licking her lips. "I searched for the hospital because Debra gave me information that led me to believe California had some of the answers I was seeking."

"Debra?" Eyebrows rose in question.

"My great aunt."

Sam gave her a searching look. For a moment Naomi wondered if her bitterness trickled into her words. Unlikely Sam would understand her anger stemmed not from the woman's recent passing but from what was revealed as a result. Calling the woman who raised her by her given name rather then the affectionate '_Aunt Debbie_' aided Naomi in distancing from the pain, from the betrayal. Indeed, the lonely year on the road revealed many secrets, deceptions yet without a purpose. A purpose, she feared, would soon be made clear. There were too many coincidences.

"A DNA test put Sandra Brooks in charge. So, you don't remember actually being at the hospital?"

"Just bits and pieces." Recalling the hospital was difficult, much like the events leading up to her first visit and her last. Nothing good came of either. In some ways she'd rather forget completely but understood innately to move on in life she must overcome lest she fall into a pit so dark and deep she would never return. She prayed Sam would not ask anymore about it. At the moment he still was wary of her. While she wanted to gain his trust, this was one of the things that got too personal. She may have known Sam because Dean talked about him constantly, but she had never formally met Dean's little brother. Just because she knew so much about Sam then didn't mean he was the same, especially after three years.

"How did your aunt fake your death?"

"I am not entirely certain." Naomi rubbed her temples wearily. "From what I was able to piece together there was a Jane Doe about my age and we shared a room. Her injuries were somewhat similar and when she died the doctor declared her as me. I left the hospital as Elizabeth Brooks, previously a Jane Doe identified by Sandra Brooks as her niece."

She waited patiently as Sam processed everything she said. "How could your aunt identify you as her niece and at the same time label a Jane Doe as her niece? "

His question blindsided her. "I—I don't know. I never thought about it." Uncovering her past mattered more to her then all the details considering her…what? Disappearance? She had no idea what to call it. It hadn't overly concerned her how Sandra snuck her from the hospital at the time. There were more pressing issues on her mind. In light of Sam's question she regretted not trying to find out.

"I didn't care particularly much about how or why I ended up staying with Sandra," Naomi shared quietly. "All I wanted was to find out everything I could about my life before."

Sam bobbed his head, bangs falling over his eyes. "Who told you about Dean?"

And that was the heart of the matter; the reason Sam was even willing to hear her story. All he cared about was protecting his brother. It was admirable and she respected him for his devotion. "Sandra faked my death, but my family apparently wasn't completely in the dark. I was reintroduced to my cousin and my great aunt. After that my memories started coming back rapidly. But I didn't know about Dean until later."

Naomi pulled a rumpled letter from her pocket and held it out. Warily, Sam took the letter from her, scanning its contents carefully until he seemed to be satisfied that it was genuine.

"George found a small wooden box that belonged to me among my uncle's belongings. I don't know why Eli had it but inside were all these letters from a man named Dean. This was the most recent, as you can see it was written in mid August of 2004. He invited me to join him in California."

The young man peered up at her through his bangs and she met his gaze. "I agreed. From what I understand, Eli refused to let me go alone and went with me."

"These are why you went to California?"

"I went to Palo Alto first and hung around for a couple months, trying to get some of my memories back. It worked, to an extent," she said dryly. "Some people remembered me, and they helped fill in some pieces. I didn't discover which hospital I had stayed in until April."

Naomi grew quiet; knowing what she would reveal next would be surprising. "I had a dream. It was—frightening to say the least. But I did manage to see a name. Mary," she whispered as she exhaled. "Your mother's name was Mary."

His eyes widened, mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Something burned in his eyes that Naomi couldn't name but knew could not bode well. Quickly she hurried on.

"Anyway, I recognized aspects of my surroundings and figured it was a hospital. I scoured the Internet for hospitals in California with the name Mary. There were quite a few but I managed to narrow it down to five. My third stop was St. Mary's in Victorville." Naomi shrugged. "Three's a charm."

No more words followed. Minutes slipped by until Sam croaked, "It was you in the diner yesterday? Greeting Kitty and Bear?"

"Yeah."

Sam puzzled, "Why the disguise?"

Acidic anger surged in blood. "I didn't want to be recognized."

He scoffed: _obviously_. "But why?" Sam demanded. "Kitty recognized you and so did Bear."

"I called ahead and let them know I was coming."

Sam jut out his chin, frowning impatiently, eyes once more darkening in mistrust.

A heavy sigh escaped her. "Look, this year hasn't been a picnic, okay? I didn't want to be found." _I couldn't be_, she added silently. Telling Sam that wasn't going to help her situation however.

"Why?"

Apparently Sam was one of those kids who just loved asking 'why, why, why' about anything and everything, effectively driving everyone around them nuts. How Dean managed, Naomi had no idea. While she was willing to relate what happened to her during her search this…this was too personal. Perhaps if she knew Sam better she could tell him but she didn't. It was a family matter. The disguise had been necessary. She hated it, but it worked. No one had been able to find her. She grit her teeth, shaking her head firmly.

"Fine," Sam snapped. "Why did you come here?"

"I wanted to see my friends," Naomi replied breezily. She was beginning to think talking to Sam alone had been a bad idea. Sam didn't trust her and didn't seem inclined to trust her anytime soon. If talking with Sam was bad, what was the discussion—if there was one—with Dean going to be like? She tried to bury her doubts by posing an inquiry of her own. "Why did you and Dean come here?"

"A hunt," Sam evaded, looking at the wall.

She arched her brow. _Really?_ "Hunting what?"

"We're not sure," the young man reluctantly admitted.

Naomi chewed her lip. If the hunt was serious enough for Dean to decide to return to Naomi's hometown then they were in big trouble, particularly since snakes were involved. _Well, this is just wonderful!_ Now what did she tell Sam? That snakes had been haunting her trail since she left Aunt Debra's? That the quantity of the slimy venomous reptiles had drastically increased over the last couple weeks? Still, something about the whole situation niggled her mind. What was she missing here? Frowning, Naomi tried to grasp the elusive feeling, make it tangible. She'd been trying ever since she found that first cobra in her truck cab. Maybe she wasn't approaching this riddle right.

Inhaling deeply, she let her mind slip into a meditative state. The heart beats of the two men in the room drummed in the silence, the intakes of air, shallow and uneasy, the smell of pine and lemon. She plunged inward.

Snakes

_Inhale_

Dark creatures

_Exhale_

Venom

_Inhale_

Power

_Exhale_

Snakes

What did they have in common?

The name fell from her lips before she registered they were moving. "Uk'tena."

Sam glanced at her sharply. "What?"

Naomi ignored him. Dread seeped into her heart, settling like molten iron in the hollows of her bones. Naomi knew of the supernatural, of the demons that were walking among people increasingly in the last couple years; knew of spirits and other dark creatures that only hunters could fight. It was hard earned knowledge only regained from months of trailing Dean and Sam across the country, in vain hope someday she'd catch up. But this…if Uk'tena was real… If the legend about the great horned serpent was true, what did it mean? The snakes. The dreams. Debra's betrayal. They were all connected.

"Son of a—"

Her words were drowned out by a shrill scream.

* * *

Colors swirled in an endless blend, the black always rushing in to engulf him only to pull back in fear. Dean didn't understand what was happening, why he was in so much pain, or where Sammy was. _Sammy!_

It started slowly, the shapes gradually becoming clearer, the shades of gray becoming more defined. He knew his baby brother before it could completely form. Sam was on the floor. He was hurt. But someone knelt beside him. Could it be…? The face became clearer, the eyes and mouth he remembered so well full of emotion as she spoke soundlessly to Sam. Dean felt his heart skip a beat. Naomi. She was alive. As suddenly as it formed the image dissipated leaving Dean in the dark once more. It was her hands who drove away the pain, her words that halted the travel of agony through his body. He could sense it now, the bond they formed years ago, renewed. So, he hadn't imagined it in the diner or in the museum. She really was alive.

There was a shift in the darkness, a tingling of warning shooting through him as his hunting instincts kicked in. Something evil was coming. It was getting stronger steadily. _Where's Sam? Where's Naomi?_ Both were absent and Dean silently screamed in protest. No, it couldn't have them! Dean wouldn't let it. Never.

Pain. Excruciating agony plowed into every part of his body. He bit his tongue desperate to keep his screams from escaping, shaking with the effort. A maniac laugh echoed in his head. Dean struggled harder. No, no, no! A brutal spear of pain impaled him and Dean screamed. Someone was touching him, moving his body without his consent. No! He tried to fight but the pain had drained him of all his energy. A familiar sound cut through the swarming dark and pain. Sammy.

Another voice, harder to hear then Sam's, pulsed in the background. Naomi. Something pierced his body and quick on its heels came relief. Naomi was speaking, her words a serenade Dean clung to. The hurt drained away slowly. Sam and Naomi were close, they were okay, and for now that was enough. Everything faded away.

Wakefulness teased him. He could hear Naomi and Sam talking. Dean knew it was time to wake up. He knew Sam was scared and unhappy with the situation. He could feel the tension crackling in the air. He needed to wake up. Mustering all his strength, Dean forced his eyelids open. A scream shattered the air.

* * *

A casserole of orange, red, and yellow bloomed in the dark cavern. From the shadows a figure clad in a loose dark garb emerged, swaying from side to side responding to an unheard tune. Terrified cries and blood curdling screams echoed in the hollow. A gloved hand reached into the flames and withdrew, completely unharmed. As the screams intensified the creature chortled with delight. Soon, very soon, it would be the most powerful being on the face of the earth. No one, not even _the_ hunter Dean Winchester, could stop it. Tomorrow, a red sun would rise for all mankind. Tomorrow, the end would begin.


End file.
